Rainbirds
by Heide DeVries
Summary: Can Darkwing and GizmoDuck stop a plot that F.O.W.L. plot involving the use of an ancient machine called Holes in the Sky? Finally a new chapter up, hu-rawwwhh! Golly I'm a dork, sorry for the wait. :
1. forward

**_disney owns darkwing and ducktales._**

* * *

Gosalyn Mallard and Honker Muddlefoot stayed close to one another on the Mallard's living room couch. Their eyes wide with anticipation as they announcer on the television introduced the latest horror flick to grace the station's Late Night Fright. Gosalyn dug into the bowl of fresh, buttery popcorn getting her feathered fingers covered in the vegetable oil as she clawed up a hand full of the treat. Honker ever-so-often would get his own popcorn but not nearly as often as the movie-goer beside him.

The announcer's voice grew darker and more mysterious as he introduced the story of the night, which was titled, "The Creatures from Mars and the Ancient Weapon of the Mayans". Honker commented lowly, "That sounds like a history channel conspiracy story than anything else..."

Gosalyn hushed him as the program began to start. A completely new narrator began to speak in a matching spooky voice as the previous announcer, "Long ago, the ancient peoples of South America had technology far beyond those of the Egyptians, even far beyond that of those now. Gifted with the power to read their futures from the stars and other heavenly phenomenon the Mayan people grew confident that they would be able to handle any disaster that came their way. Then the ancient fortune-tellers foresaw their own demise. Just after their demise was shown to the ancient people they begged to the heavens that had shown them the cruel fate of their people to grant them another path and let them live. The stars told them to fashion a device that could be used as a weapon and then leave that weapon as well as their villages unattended. They created this weapon, a weapon with the ability to create a hole in the atmosphere, and they left it just as they said. Now that weapon lays deep in the jungles of South America awaiting one day to be used for good... or for evil."

The television screen faded into a logo with the title in crimson with dripping letters that read, "Creatures for Mars and the Ancient Weapon of the Mayans! In Technicolor television!" before going into a commercial break. Gosalyn Mallard finally drew in a heavy breath, as if she'd been holding it in for the entire introduction of the movie, saying in a giddy, light hearted manner, "Keen-Gear! This movie's going to rule, Honk-man! I can just see, aliens taking over the world! Boom! With helpless maidens and heroes with big ol' bazookas--"

"G-Gos, don't you think that this plot is a bit silly? Stars that tell Mayans to make weapons?" Honker said, moving his glasses up on his face as they slipped to the bottom of his nose. "The Mayans did disappear but it probably had nothing to do with aliens..."

Gosalyn rolled her eyes at her friend and neighbor, "What a kill-joy you can be sometimes. Well, it would be worse if my dad were here. He would say, 'Gosalyn, you shouldn't be filling your head with such scary things, it'll keep you up late at night with nightmares.' or something like that."

Honker nodded, he actually liked how Mr. Mallard tried to protect Gosalyn from her own rogue imagination. His parents were just the opposite sometimes, they only seemed to care about his grades and if he was eating correctly (not that they were unloving) they were nothing like Mr. Mallard. "Your dad out on work again?"

By work they both knew he was searching the city for criminals as the masked hero of Saint Canard but this lingo kept the conversation somewhat normal. Gosalyn nodded, "Yea, he's looking for SteelBeak again. It's been the third incident that was F.O.W.L. involved. Not to mention this string of break-ins in stores..."

"Hard night, I guess..." Honker said.

"Quiet, the shows back on! I know he'll be fine; he always is, Honk-man."

* * *

_So began the story of the Hole in the Sky _

_and _

_the unkindness that brought it to Saint Canard._


	2. one

_Ducktales and Darkwing are both (C) Disney. _

* * *

Chapter One

Duckburg

10:00 PM Tuesday

* * *

Gimbel stood as still as possible against the door, watching from the darkness the waddling entrance of the accountant. Fenton Crackshell, blissfully unaware of the presence of the villain, made his way to Scrooge McDuck's desk placing his finished report on it. Hoping to make his burglary as least problematic as possible Gimbel waited for the accountant to leave. Yet the observant Fenton did not - instead turned directly towards the hidden raven.

Gimbel's stomach knotted. He was left with no choice now...

Yet as soon as Gimbel resolved to attack the unfortunate Fenton did something odd happen. Fenton, who apparently had not noticed the hidden intruder, simply walked away. Gimbel's ruffled feathers and twisted stomach eased as the accountant left. The tension exited the raven quickly leaving him a mere pile of mush on the carpeted flooring, dabbing at his forehead. Now he resolved after a moment of rest, he was ready to resume his theft. Standing once more he crept towards the desk. Using skilled hands to open the drawers in complete silence. Rummaging through several drawers nothing was found of interest to the raven. He began to doubt the object of his desire was present at all in the office. The next drawer - locked tightly shut - was his next try. Unable to defeat the lock with his might alone Gimbel glanced around of something to wedge into the lock to try and pry the drawer undone.

"Here try this."

Gimbel did not even turn to thank the one who handed him the fancy looking wench. He simply snatched it greedily and went to work at the drawer with the tool, not caring about anything else. However, after he finally accomplished his task the raven realized he was no longer alone. His crimson eyes slowly followed the trail between him and the desk to the visitor. The figure of a taller duck with his arms crossed and his bill turned upright into a dashing smirk, "Need something else?"

Dressed in what appeared to be robotic armor the stranger pulled a suitcase from the seemingly infinite space of his armor, "Perhaps a bag to carry your loot?"

Gimbel felt the air leaving his lungs forcefully as the stranger struck him with the suitcase. Skidding backwards on the carpeted floor several inches the raven stopped himself by digging his hooked claws into the ground. His voice cracked as he replied to the cocky hero, "Nice punch line, but can I try my own... punch that is."

Rushing forward the raven slammed his fist into the chest of the robotic duck, only to realize it was a mistake afterwards. Yelping the raven waved his now injured fist and shook his head, "Listen, robot duck, I have no time for niceties. I've a job to do."

The reply came as the duck's suit began to change shape - a small pair of handcuffs attached to a metal arm emerged from the robot's chest. "Turn yourself in and we'll have all the time in the world, fiend!"

Only laughing the raven said, "I regretfully decline such a generous offer on account of my job has barely begun and my client cannot be kept waiting..."

This statement being said the raven made another quickened movement towards the duck. The robot duck made no attempt to dodge except to put up his arms in defense, convinced his armor would only injure the raven further. Another hit struck the robot, this one in the head. A strange feeling of weakness hit the duck, his arms fell slack as if someone had struck him in a way that was made impossible by his armor. Gritting his teeth the duck fell into the far wall, shaken and pained. The raven, in a nearly dancing motion fluidly walked towards the office desk once more, grabbing the papers that the accountant had placed there. Hopping towards the window with a cackling crow the raven leaned against the window for a moment, "Blast, only one is right. Here you go, my dear fellow, all of them back with the exception of this one. Not too bad of a loss, eh?"

With another crowing laugh the raven threw open the window and made his exit leaving the robot alone in the office. Left alone in the darkened office the robotic duck muttered the words to make his armor disassemble, leaving Fenton Crackshell leaning against the wall of his boss' office in unbelievable pain and only two questions on his mind, _What would someone want with Fenton Crackshell's payroll report? _And _What sort of attack could get through his armor like that?

* * *

_

Author's note: Lately I've been writing on my cellphone, this and the next two short chapters were both wrote on my cell phone. I'm a newbee to Ducktales, btw. How'm I doing?


	3. two

**Darkwing Duck is all Disney. I just worship the ground it walks on. Anyhow, I have my own characters stuffed into this story, so please don't use them without permission...

* * *

**

RainBirds

**Chapter 2

* * *

**

**Saint Canard **

**10:30 PM**

Darkwing Duck, the daily defender of Saint Canard and hero to all citizens, attempted to keep sarcasm from his voice as he spoke to his partner, Launchpad McQuack. Telling the taller half-duck in the RatCatcher's sidecar that they would not be stopping at Hamburger Hippos for their usual _midnight snack_. Darkwing's rational was simple: for one it always ended up distracting the masked mallard from his duties and for two... it wasn't even midnight yet.

Launchpad was disappointed, to say the least, and began to wonder aloud if he should have gotten a sandwich before he left. Before Darkwing could open his mouth to agree with his partners wondering statement he was stopped by the sight of broken glass in the middle of the road. Slowing the RatCatcher to a stop Darkwing realized they were at the feet of a staggering office building. Taking off his helmet Darkwing's eyes wandered up to a third story window; where the broken glass had come from it would appear. Fragments of glass still clung to the broken frame, shining brightly in the full moon's light; this was a burglary in progress. Turning the RatCatcher's engine off Darkwing glanced around to his partner, who's eyes were revealing the same emotions as his own--it was time for Darkwing Duck to go into action.

The building they were entering was the Saint Canard Paper and Custom Stationary Distribution Center (the SC-PAS for short). Years prior the building had been a target of arson and had yet to fully recover due to a lack of funding but a recent big investment from Duckburg's business tycoon Scrooge McDuck. Now, with total confidence, it would be ready for business again. However, many floors were still under construction and therefore dangerous. Darkwing hoped this thief knew that as well.

With Launchpad tailing him, Darkwing entered the bottom floor by slowly prying open a pair of chained close doors to the side of building. Launchpad's jaw fell slack as they entered the first corridor, gaping at the memories of fire etched into every wall inside. "D.W., I'm not sure if this building is safe enough for us to be wandering around in."

Darkwing would agree, but the thief was still present and for that reason Darkwing would not leave. "It's probably a looter anyhow... Run as soon as we catch them." Reassured the masked mallard to his partner. Keeping his ears open for the sign of intruder, he heard the faint sound of rummaging from just ahead. The intruder was just ahead; Darkwing rose a finger to his bill as they drew nearer to the room. Edging around to spy ahead through the darkness Darkwing saw a lanky black bird picking tediously through a broken file cabinet. Darkwing heard the bird softly muttering underneath his breath. Shaking his head Darkwing cursed the day the politicians reduced the number of Saint Canard's homeless shelters (so they could afford to fix the roads in the downtown area). Convienced that the poor bird before them was simply down on his luck and in search of something worth money Darkwing figured it wasn't worth his usual entrance. And Darkwing began to slowly approach the bird, signaling Launchpad to stay behind as a precaution. "You aren't going to find anything worth your time in there..."

The bird started, for once this wasn't Darkwing's intention. Growing silent the ebony bird straightened his body, staring towards Darkwing. ('Staring' was only an assumption because Darkwing couldn't see the birds eyes because of a thick curtain of feathers over his face.) The bird replied nearly monotone, "Then perhaps you have yet to understand what I am searching for." Slowly he returned to searching through the papers, for the most part ignoring Darkwing's presence for a moment before continuing, "If that is your only concern - leave me to search in vain."

Darkwing sighed, "Listen, I know its a blow to your pride sometimes, but everyone needs a little help. Right? I could give you a ride to the shelter down the street from here..."

The bird smiled a broken grin, chuckling hoarsely, "Oh. I understand now. That's your perception of the scene. Thank you very much for your concern, but I am not without a home. True I am a vagrant but I have enough money to live in leisure. With that being stated, do be careful on the way out. This place is quite difficult to navigate and is very dangerous."

Nothing sarcastic about the bird's tone, he was being truthful to Darkwing even the part about being careful on the way out. Darkwing noted a slavic accent to the strange burglar.

Darkwing now regretted not giving his usual entrance for this strange looter. Taking his hero's tone he said, "Listen, buddy. You'd best be getting out of this building before I am forced to take you downtown for your prints..."

Once more the bird grew silent, straightening once more and dropping the papers gathered in his thin fingers, "I will replace what has to be stolen - if indeed anything is worth stealing."

_That's a new one._ Darkwing noted, glancing back to his partner for a moment. This thief's comment caught the mallard off guard, "If you can replace it - why steal it at all?"

"That I cannot tell you, mister..."

"Darkwing. Darkwing Duck."

"So... it's you then?" The bird questioned, his face turning serious as he heard the name of the duck who was before him. "Forgive me for not realizing, I am new to Saint Canard. But... I have been warned about you..."

"Warned?" Darkwing repeated, something about the bird worked at his nerves. Behind him he could tell Launchpad was also worried about the strange thief. "So what is it? That you've been warned about?"

"I've been warned you'd be getting into my way."

* * *

_Author's note: More chapters from the cell phone._


	4. three

**_Darkwing Duck and Ducktales are both (C) Disney._**

* * *

**chapter 3**

* * *

"I'll give you one chance to leave in peace, Darkwing." Coldly stated the bird, his hands discreetly inching to his pockets. Darkwing shook his head, pulling out his gun and aiming it towards the thief. 

"I'm the one making demands here..."

Another smile grazed the black bird's face as he responded by pulling his hands from his pockets. Without hesitation the bird flicked his wrist, sending something flying towards the masked hero. Instinct took over as Darkwing jumped to one side dodging the projectile with ease. It was a needle - landing where Darkwing had stood point first into the ground. Darkwing aimed his gun, instead of at the bird, high into the air. Letting a smoke capsule errupt into the air, soon a heavy dark purple haze separated Darkwing from his adversary. This tactic had worked many time before, the common criminal would generally be lost without sight - just what the hero wanted.

"Listen up, you paper pillager from the sewing club! You picked the wrong building in the wrong town to do your dirty --" Darkwing was stopped mid-sentence by another of the flying needles. It landed into a metal column beside him bouncing off onto the ground. Darkwing wondered briefly how the fiend had come so close to hitting him but he dismissed it as a shot in the dark (only aided by the mallard's speech). Darkwing decided, however the bird made the shot, it would be best to stay low and avoid giving away his position to the foe.

_Launchpad was somewhere out there, too, hopefully staying out of range of the needles_. Darkwing thought as he ducked low to the ground listening for his enemies movements. Yet it was so quiet Darkwing could hear nothing, not even a single footstep. _Perhaps, he's not moving at all. _

Now Darkwing knew his villain was no amateur. Darkwing wished he'd not filled the room with smoke, because easily enough the tables could be turned - Darkwing might become the hunted instead. Once more Darkwing began to listen for movement, this time closing his eyes and breathing softly as he concentrated on the whereabouts of his enemy. Suddenly two more of the needles pierced through the thick smoke embedding themselves at Darkwing's feet. Suppressing the urge to yelp Darkwing held his ground - the attack was another shot in the dark. This attack, Darkwing was convinced, was only to stir up movement and held the enemy locate him. Darkwing was smarter, tons smarter, than the thief gave him credit for. Using the direction the attack came from as a guideline Darkwing launched his counter assault. A well-placed Quack-fu kick through the air caught Darkwing's foe in the ribs. The bird skidded backwards - back into the now diminished smoke - called out, angrily, "Darkwing! This struggle won't help at all. I have yet to steal anything..."

"You don't have to - you're still trespassing!" The smoke was gone, for the most part, and Darkwing clearly saw his foe again. Neither of them were ready to quit, it seemed; and neither of them looked worried. Darkwing stared at his foe, contemplating how to get close to the bird without suffering the needles his enemy carried.

A minute passed. The thief laughed, smiling again, "Is this silence of yours an indication of shock? Don't tell me you expected less of someone hired by F.O.W.L..."

Darkwing's eyes darkened as he took a closer look at the bird, "Is that what you meant by having been warned? Well, they flatter me, thief, because I alone couldn't do much of anything --"

Without saying a word to his sidekick the hero realized that Launchpad had conjured a plan with Darkwing. The taller duck stood directly behind the villain - undetected by the thief - ready for Darkwing to make his move. This type of telepathy (could it be called that) was what made them both a great team. Launchpad was ready for the bird to move back, Darkwing decided _that _was exactly what he was going to force the enemy to do.

Darkwing dashed forward towards his foe, calling out a Quack-Fu empowering sound. The bird inched back, posing two of the needles point first to attack and stayed his ground. Darkwing knew he would have to literally fight the bird back into Launchpad. With another kick towards the stranger Darkwing hoped to finish the fight soon. But the black bird had other plans. Reaching out with his free hand the thief attempted to grab Darkwing's leg whilst he was in mid-kick but narrowly missed. Launchpad seemed to think this was too great a chance to take, letting the thief retaliate against his partner. Taking his own action Launchpad rushed forwards grabbing the thief's arms and pulling them behind - as a policeman would just before handcuffing the law-breaker. The bird didn't act surprised at the new development in the battle, however, in fact Darkwing almost thought by his reaction he knew about Launchpad. More curiously the thief, after putting up such a struggle, relaxed under Launchpad's hold and smiled once more, "Very good, Mr. Darkwing, and of course he couldn't have done it so easily without help. So, now, what's your plans for me? Do you get me to tell you about the orders F.O.W.L. left me with or is your job over with?"

Darkwing glanced at Launchpad - thanking him silently - before he asked, "You are confident you won't have to tell us either, right? So, how about this, Mr. Thief, what's your name? I never knew of a villain who didn't want to be remembered for his deeds. Or are you ashamed of this?"

Darkwing stressed the word _ashamed_ hoping to at least get on the thief's nerves. He needed a name, something to search by after they took this bird to jail, so Darkwing hoped he would not have to play too many mind games with the bird to get the needed information.

"I am not ashamed. My name is Rainbird. Brigley of Rainbird Unkindness."

Darkwing coughed, choking on nothing but air. "You-u... that's your real name, isn't it? I was talking more about..."

"What _did_ you want when you asked for my name? An alias?" The bird tilted his head to one side, acting more than confused by Darkwing's reaction. "Is that all the information you needed? If so I should be on my way..."

"If you think you're going anywhere --" Launchpad began, his grip tightening on the bird for a moment. Suddenly a sharp pain hit the taller bird's side, so shocking was the sensation of pain that Launchpad forgot completely about his enemy. The bird's arms returned to his sides and before Darkwing could take any action he too was struck with a sharp pain. Launchpad reached down to his sides, pulling out a small sewing needle that'd pierced him through his clothing. Darkwing fell to one knee, growling as he began to search for the needle on him as well. But as Darkwing watched the bird making way swiftly towards an open window, he realized there was no needle in him. Yet as he rose from the ground to follow after the bird, the pain remained.

Watching the bird disappear from sight out the window Darkwing shook his head. As much as he hated to admit it, now was not the time to worry about the thief bird. Darkwing slowly walked to his partner, rubbing at the area of his chest that stung with pain, "Launchpad, are you all right?"

"It was just a needle, D.W... It'll be fine, just scared me is all..." Launchpad had the needle in his hands, inspecting it. "You get one too?"

"I don't know." Darkwing narrowed his eyes as he reached down gathering his outfit up enough that he could look underneath to see the damage caused. On his feather chest was a burn mark that resembled a horse's hoof. "What is _that thing_? That black feathered paper pirate did _that_ to me?"

Launchpad shook his head, "If I didn't know any better, D.W.. I'd say that looked like magic to me."

_Magic? _Darkwing wondered with a frown on his bill. _So, first he's a needle throwing paper thief. Now he's a needle throwing, paper thief that puts magic spells that burn into my feathers? Working for F.O.W.L. eh?_

"Come on, L.P.! Lets see if S.H.U.S.H. knows anything about this guy!"

* * *

_Author's Note: Another one from the cell phone. Believe it or not my cellular is beginning to recognize "Darkwing" and "Launchpad" as whole words now. But it still gives me such fits on words like "S.H.U.S.H." and "F.O.W.L.". Can't win them all, no? I just hope my original characters are well enough liked; they took some time to develop... I need to put more F.O.W.L. in my story... c.o; _


	5. four

**_Disney owns Darkwing Duck and Ducktales. I'm just a big fan and like to write stories about them. _**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_Friday Morning_

_Duckburg_

* * *

Fenton Crackshell opened his eyes, the world spun before them as if he were intoxicated. Groaning the accountant grabbed at his forehead, it was moist with sweat, he felt some depression in his feathered skin. Above him hovered a face, he had to truly concentrate before the fowl became recognizable.

"Hewey-y?" He half-questioned, half-stated as he began to pull his body up from its reclined position.

"Wow, you're alive, eh? Be still, you could have a head injury. You took a good _whallop_!"

"Don't be silly. I'm fine." Fenton insisted, "I have to go speak with your uncle."

Hewey kept a close eye on the accountant as he began to stand up in a slow wobbling manner. Hewey bit his bill, "Unc'a Scrooge will be back after a little while. He's still trying to figure out how someone out witted his outer security. He seems to think that the thief was not even very smart to begin with!"

Fenton nodded: he too was under the same impression that the burglar was not the brightest. In fact, when Fenton had entered the room that night - to put the report on his boss' desk - and saw the bird for the first time Fenton's thoughts matched Scrooge's exactly. He said to himself, "How dumb can you be? Anyone can see someone hiding there." With the combination of moonlight and the lights from the other rooms - the thief was clearly visible to anyone. Fenton figured his best bet would be to confront the thief as Gizmoduck - so he only pretended not to see the fiend.

Scratching his head, Fenton turned to Hewey and asked, "What made your uncle think the villain was dumb?"

Hewey sighed, raising his hands into the air, "He exited out a window with four rose bushes underneath..."

Both of them looked sheepish for a moment, though nothing about the incident was humorous, they couldn't help but chuckle at the burglar's silliness. Fenton coughed hiding his flushed cheeks and asking another question to change the subject, ""So, your uncle didn't hear a thing? He _was _in his money bin swimming at the time..."

Hewey shook his head, "He said he came out to find you on the ground, the window open, and seconds later he got a phone call from Flintheart Glomgold saying he'd been robbed too!"

"Flintheart!" Fenton repeated in disbelief, "Robbed? Robbed of what?"

"Some letter in his gallery from Unc'a Scrooge. I guess Unc'a wrote it when he lost a bet with Flintheart. Flintheart must have kept it to rub it in, or something."

The accountant's eyes grew troubled as he began to search for connections in the robberies. It didn't make sense that the two richest duck's in Duckburg would be robbed in the same night - but for nothing but pieces of paper. Both, however, were written by Scrooge McDuck - so Fenton doubted that Glomgold was the true target.

Fenton's attention went to Hewey, the young duck looked anxious. The duck's two brother's were no where to be seen - this was particularly strange to Fenton. "Say, where's Louie and Dewey? You three are usually like glue."

Hewey didn't look offended - though he might have been, Fenton having insulted his individuality - instead he only shrugged, "They're with Unc'a Scrooge and Gyro trying to figure out the security system's bug. Someone had to watch you, after all, right?"

Smiling the accountant was instantly reminded of what he loved about this family; they were so loving and kind to him even though he could have been seen as nothing more than an employee they treated him well. In fact, that was just how Scrooge McDuck - no - how all of Duckburg was. A long time ago Fenton decided why he had to be Gizmoduck because he loved this place; this house, these ducks, this town - everything about Duckburg was worth protecting.

"Gyro did you say? Well that's a relief! Let's go, Hewey, if we get there soon enough I can talk to them both then!" _And I can ask Gyro to check out the Gizmosuit, something has been bugging me about that fellow's attack on me. _

Before they had gotten even into the hallway of the manor, they were interrupted by the entrance of Scrooge McDuck himself. Scrooge's hat and cane in one hand, the older fowl was deep in thought. As he pondered his fingers rested on his brow and he muttered to himself. He didn't seem to be paying the two occupants any mind as he passed. It was Fenton that brought Scrooge back from his thoughts, "Is everything all right, Mister McDuck? Did you figure out the bug?"

"No. Aye, but how's that ol' ding on your head?" Scrooge asked his eyes perching up as he noticed Fenton and Hewey were on their way out of the room.

"It doesn't hurt, but it feels odd. Like an old scar, that's been there for a long time, and it isn't going to leave... strange isn't it?" That statement won Fenton nothing but silence and a bewildered look from Scrooge. "Anyway-s... is Gyro still here?"

"Indeed. He's just outside, Fenton." Scrooge said as the preoccupied Fenton began to exit, "B-but wait! Can I ask you something?"

"Of course! I'll do anything to help."

"Was it a raven what attacked you?"

"Eh?" Fenton blinked several times, "I think it was. How did you know that?"

Scrooge's eyes darkened. "Then I don't doubt his entrance much if you say he was indeed a raven. Some of them know magic as well as Magica DeSpell does..."

"Magic?" Fenton questioned in disbelief. "You think he used his magic to sneak inside? But that still doesn't say what he would want with only paper. That's very strange..."

"No matter. We'll have this resolved in due time." Scrooge nodded his head, turning to Hewey. Patting the young duck on the head, "Thank you, laddie, for watching out for him. Now if I do remember your brothers are going to go to the park to practice baseball, right?"

"They'd better not leave without me!" Hewey's eyes lit up as he rushed to pass by Fenton and leave the room. Calling back, "Good luck, Unc'a Scrooge! Fenton, you too! Guys don't leave me behind!"

* * *

_Author's notes: Are they in character? That's all I wonder because I'm kind of new to Ducktales. I love the character of Fenton Crackshell, however. He's cool. Ah, and I bow to my reviewers. I know this story is kind of starting slow but I hope I can make it better than O.R.! It's always my goal to do better... _


	6. five

_Darkwing Duck and Ducktales both belong to Disney. The ravens are all mine. _

_Author's Note: Due to some I-D-Ten-T (ID10T) error I mistakenly put "Friday" as the date on chapter 4 - it was supposed to be wenesday morning. Sorry. Fenton didn't get hit __**that**_

* * *

_Chapter 5_

Duckburg

Wednesday, Noon

* * *

Hewey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby (only because she insisted on tagging along) rode their bikes quickly down the mild streets of Duckburg. They were careful not to lose their baseball equipment that they'd tucked away in various manners and places on the bikes. Webby, sporting a bright pink bike with a white colored basket at the front, seemed to be having a difficult time keeping up with the boys. In the basket were her doll and sketch pad. She knew herself well enough to know watching the boys play would not entertain her long. When they reached the park the triplets jumped off their bikes, letting them crash into a heap on the ground and ran to the closest empty space possible. Webby, however, neatly propped her own bike on its kick-stand and sat underneath the shade of a large Japanese Maple tree. After watching the boys catch balls, run laps (making it into a full blown competition, naturally) and practice their batting; the young duckling sat her sketchbook on the grass and prepared to draw.

Several lines were drawn on the paper before she abruptly stopped. Webby felt something hard land on her head, nestling between her bow and her feathered temple. Wincing the young lady began to search her head, finding a small thorn within the ribbon in her hair. Looking above her she began to search for the source - knowing well that thorns weren't something that came from this particular kind of tree. She saw a dark figure on a high branch of the tree. At first, she gasped in fear, simply because she'd no idea that anyone was there in the first place. Her eyes were widened to the size of saucers as she watched the figure of a large raven, seemingly the bird was tediously preening his feathers with his clawed hands.

The bird just happened to glance down, seeing Webby. If it had not been for that, Webby would not have likely said anything to the stranger. A smirk appearing on his face, "Did I disturb you, darling? I was only up here because the shade cooled me to the bones..."

_Bones_. He drew out the 's' like a snake.

His eyes were crimson and his feathers were now ruffled as he watched the young duck below carefully. Bandages were scattered around the bird's visible body, making him look rougher than he perhaps was. The bird repeated, "Are you disturbed, girl?"

"No-o, sir. I just didn't see you there at first, that's all." Webby shook her head.

"Well, my apologizes, then. Didn't mean to scare you..." He nodded his head as if bowing towards Webby. Turning his attention to the sketchbook that Webby had in front of her, "What a beautiful artist you must be? Was that a gift to you?"

"From my uncle..."

Even a duck as young as Webby could understand the bird's words were leading her along. This was perhaps a blatant attempt for the bird to earn trust out of Webby; but knowing this Webby was not suspecious of any malice from the raven. Despite he being a stranger (which she'd been warned never to talk to those she wasn't aquainted with), Webby never felt anything odd about him. Though many fowl are capable of deception - the raven seemed like a normal bird.

"My, my how thoughtful of him! And from what I can tell, you get much practice out of it! Right, young miss?"

Webby nodded.

The bird's feathers ruffled as he glanced around, "Young lady, can I ask a favor of you? I promise it won't be too bothersome, and if it's unreasonable you can say no, naturally..."

She hardly knew what to say; she should ought to even speak to the stranger in the first place. "Well, I don't know..." Webby grabbed onto her favorite doll for comfort, as the crimson-eyed raven watched her closely. "Well, what is it, first?"

The bird moved down the branches of the tree, with mannerism of a cat or monkey, until he was on the limb nearest to the ground. Then he jumped down, landing several steps away from the duckling, brushing off his clothing with a grimace on his face. Webby took his moment of silence in the conversation to ask, "Are you all right...? I mean all of those bandages on you... shouldn't you go to see a doctor?"

Another smile broadly shown on the raven, "You're a sweet girl for being concerned. I am quite all right, but even if I did need a doctor - I couldn't afford to pay for his services at this time. Now, darling, please... can you draw something for me? It's my first and last time in Duckburg and I have had such a great time that I daresay I don't want to ever forget it. So if you would draw me something to remember this place by, I would be eternally grateful!"

To the duckling it was an innocent enough request; she felt relieved that it was something so simple that he asked. So she nodded fervently, "Of course I would be able to do that for you! As long as you don't mind that it's not with my colors... they're at Uncle Scrooge's house."

The raven hopped several short-lived bounds, crowing loudly, "Wonderful! Wonderful! That's absolutely fine - color or no - I would be so happy! Sketch me one on the next page, love!"

Webby giggled underneath her breath, thinking to herself: _He sounds like a little kid! _

Quickly she began to draw the park, adding every detail she could think of into the paper: every tree, every duck, and every flower. The bird stood beside her, purring softly, his eyes glancing around them occasionally to the surroundings. Suddenly his head perked up, just as Webby started pencilling in the tree were underneath onto the paper. Her initial thoughts were that the bird was somehow displeased with her drawing, but that was not it. The raven grumbled, lowly, "Does the witch not give up so easily? How annoying is this, now?"

Inching behind Webby the raven spread his arms out into the air, across the length of her back. Saying with a chuckle, "I hate to say this, young lady, but I might have to leave prematurely..."

"What do you --?"

"You! Give back what you stole!" A familiar voice screeched, just before Webby felt herself being lifted up from the ground and thrown to the side. She hit the grass a meter away from where she was, underneath the tree; confused and dazed as her head swarmed. Her short fingers flexing in the grass as she tried to raise her body, feeling a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Webby! Webby!" It was Louie, holding onto her, his eyes seeping with concern as he helped her onto her knees.

"What's going on-n?" Webby begin, looking out underneath the Japanese Maple. Where she'd once sat was a large scorch mark. The air smelt of burnt grass and fire.

"Some bird was standing behind you... and then Magica DeSpell attacked you! He must have saved you, Webby, right?" One of the triplets asked, unsure as they all looked around for sight of either the raven or Magica DeSpell.

"Drat! Drat! Drat!" An irate voice called from behind the maple. Magica Despell stumbled from behind the tree, her sleeves rolled up and her face enraged. "Where'd bird go to?"

Magica's eyes wandered around, inspecting the tree for a moment, mumbling to herself as she thoughtfully put a hand on her chin, "Scrooge's nephews!" She snapped her fingers, "Did you see where bird ran off to!"

Dewey snorted, "Why should we tell you, you tried to fry Webby! What's the big idea!"

"Don't be stupid!" Magica shook her head, her thick hair was flustered and out of place, "I was trying to hit tha' dirty raven! He stole a piece of paper from me, very important and I will make sure he pays for it!" She made a fist, snarling, "Couldn't have gotten far..."

"Wait... Paper?" Hewey questioned, looking to his brothers for a moment, "Then you were stolen from too?"

"Yes, paper with Scrooge's hand writing on it! I was going to make Hand-Writing Curse on Scrooge but foul bird ruined Magica's plans! I'll turn raven into toast!" Magica fumed, beginning to storm off from the boys.

"We've all been stolen from, then! We need to help each other... Uncle Scrooge--"

"Scrooge! Only way I help him is if I get Lucky Dime. I'll catch raven on my own... and make him give me all of the papers with Scrooge's writing on it! So I can make even bigger curse!" Magica cackled before snapping her fingers and disappearing into a cloud of black smoke.

Hewey, Dewey, Louie and Webby didn't move for a minute. It was Webby that first spoke, "He... he was really after paper...?"

"Seems to be only paper with unc'a Scrooge's writing on it." Hewey noted as he glanced at the scorch mark underneath the tree, "And he's not making any friends doing it either!"

"Oh no!" Webby cried, "... he's taken the picture I was drawing for him too!"

* * *

The raven sat down with a flop in the ice cream parlor's stool. His feathers matted with sweat, "Can I get a triple scoop cone, please..." He asked the duck behind the counter.

"You again? Don't you eat anything else but ice cream, son?" Asked the friendly face behind the counter as he began to fill the customer's order. "That'll be three-twenty again."

"Ice cream makes me not miss home so much, that's all." Replied the raven as he took the ice cream in hand. Reaching into his back pocket the raven grabbed a crumbled up paper from the pair of denim jeans he wore, "One more... that leaves nine to go..."

"What's that, son?"

"I was saying where I'm from it's bitterly cold, you know... ice cream reminds me of days at home..." The raven managed to say between laps on his ice cream cone. "You know what it's like to be home-sick. Right?"

"Of course. Everyone gets home-sick." The duck nodded before going on to help out a young duckling with her order.

From his pocket the raven grabbed a mobile phone, pressing a single button as he speed-dialed a number. "Can I speak to the one in charge of this project, eh? I have something to ask..."

A pause, "I know it's not really protocol to call everyday, but I like making progress reports for my boss in Saint Canard."

The raven smiled, "He doesn't want to make contact, Mr. Beak, he's gotten me to do that for him. You understand, right? Don't worry... you'll met him in due time. He's busy that's all. Family life and all. Anyhow, I wanted to say we've gotten ten pieces, and nine more left..."

A laugh from the raven, his ice cream dripped down onto his ebony fingers, "Don't worry. That's been taken care of... now, what's with this Scrooge McDuck? Forgive my ignorance but I'm quite new to things around here, is he important?"

The ice cream vender looked up from what he was doing, looking somewhat confused then shaking his head, "Where are you from Siberia? Someone that doesn't know Scrooge McDuck?"

Cupping a hand over the receiver the raven winked, "Nice guess..." Then getting back onto the phone, "Rich, eh? So what should a few slips of paper matter to someone like that? Well, sounds like a meddlesome fellow... No, no... I won't have a problem working, even with you telling me that... Until later, Mr. Beak."

The phone call was ended. The raven grabbed the crumbled drawing and shoved it back into his pockets and got up from the chair. "A millionaire with a heart of gold, eh? Sounds like a nice guy."


	7. six

_Darkwing Duck and Ducktales both belong to Disney. The Ravens are all mine._

* * *

_Chapter 6_

Saint Canard

Wednesday 1:00 PM

* * *

Drake's eyes opened as he swore underneath his breath. Only an hour ago he'd finished his working on the computer at the Tower, trying to find information on the paper thief. Only an hour and a half ago he'd lay down, hoping to get some sleep. Only ten seconds ago someone had started ringing his doorbell.

He grumbled, rubbing the ruffled feathers on his head as he sat up in bed. _Where's Gos and Launchpad? One of them is probably closer than I am to the door..._

It didn't matter now, because Drake Mallard was up and answering the door anyhow. He wasn't irate, hardly ever did he get angry at trivial matters such as answering the door.

"I'm coming!" He called as the doorbell sounded once more. Sleepily he grabbed onto the staircase's handle and took each step carefully to make his way to the door. Finally, once reaching the door, he slowly opened it.

He must have looked tired. It was Binky Muddlefoot on the other side of the door. Her eyes lit up as she saw him, "Oh my, you look tired."

He was too tired for sarcasm even.

"I _am_, Binky. How can I help you?" He stepped back from the door as if to invite the Muddlefoot inside. Binky gave him a worried look, but before she could inquire about his sleeplessness, he told her: "I was up all last night getting together my paperwork for my taxes."

"Well, it is that season. You are usually more organized than that, though, Mister Mallard!" Binky smiled, she knew him better than even he could imagine. In actuality, Drake Mallard never let a single paper stray from his neat folder labeled 'taxes'. "Anyhow-w, I was coming to ask you if you were aware of the new family that moved in recently."

"No, sorry, Binky." Drake was more used to her asking for sugar or eggs - this question struck him as odd, "Since when was I invited into the neighborhood gossip circle?"

Binky covered her mouth and laughed gingerly, "Well, I figured you might have already known since they're just across the street from us. Anyhow, we're going to give them a formal welcome this afternoon, just so you know..."

"All right..." Drake's eyebrows rose.

"So, will that be enough time for you to make your gelatin dessert?" Binky asked sweetly, "I was looking forward to it since Gos told me about it..."

Drake blinked several times, he squinted his eyes and curled his bill, "Now, Binky, I think I'm missing something here... What's this about gelatin?"

"Last year, at the block party... you signed up for the Neighborhood Welcoming Committee..." Binky clasped her hands together as if she were thrilled, "You were our first male participant! I was so happy about it, Mister Mallard!"

"What!" His bill was ajar. "Binky-y... I didn't.. You must be mistaken!"

"You don't remember? Signing up put you in a drawing for a free copy of that Wiffleboy game that was so popular then..." Binky explained, "Please, Mister Mallard, even if you didn't sign up for it, could you make the dessert just this once! Miss Billard down the street's turned up sick, I'm making the brownies and Elena is already --"

"Okay, okay! I'll go but just this once, okay?" Drake grumbled, his awareness of his surroundings becoming full as he was jolted awake by the sudden terror of having to spend the afternoon with Binky Muddlefoot and the other Neighborhood Gossips. His sharp mind began to rapidly work the facts of the situation. First Drake Mallard wanted to know exactly how this could happen to him in the first place: "Did you say it was for a Wiffleboy game?"

"Yes, the newest edition at the time." Binky nodded, "Thank you so much, Drake! I'll be over around six to accompany you, okay?"

"Of course..." Drake didn't even wait for her to leave his front stoop before he closed the door. His eyes bore into the closed door for a moment as he mumbled a curse under his breath. Turning around towards the staircase he drew in a tight breath, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Gosalyn Mallard!"

Not too seconds later he saw his little girl peek out of the kitchen. A carrot stick was in her mouth, and a hamburger was in her left hand, "Yea, dad?"

"You signed me up for the Gossip Committee so you could win a video game!" Drake vented, "How-w! How could you?"

She dropped the hamburger. "Oh, oh... that. Well, that was..."

Drake tapped his foot on the ground waiting for a proper answer.

"Well..." She tried again, looking down at the hamburger, "Listen, I didn't win it, so..."

"I've got to make a gelatin mold and spend the day with Binky Muddlefoot because of you signing me up for that! If you'd just told me - I would have bought the game! Just to get out of spending time with the Muddlefoots and the Neighborhood Gossip Squad!" Drake fumed as he began to pace in the foreyuer.

"Well, that stinks. Tell me how it goes okay...?" Gosalyn ducked back into the kitchen, trying to sound casual, "I'm going to the park to play street hockey! See ya!"

"Hold it right there, young lady!" Following her into the kitchen Drake pointed (acting almost as Darkwing Duck might having caught a villain trying to escape), "You're not going anywhere! You're going to go with me, _and _you're going to make that dessert with me..."

"But-ut, Dad-d-d-d!" Gosalyn cried, "Please don't make me do that!"

Drake just crossed his arms and gave his daughter a stern glare.

* * *

6:30 PM

Gosalyn's gelatin mold looked like a piece of modern art. Binky Muddlefoot, not knowing who's feelings it might upset, didn't say anything about the odd looking dessert however. The Muddlefoot just donned a cheerful smile and straightened out the plastic wrap as she placed it into the picnic basket - which was covered in cute colored ribbons and had a red ballon tied to it.

"All right, Drake, Gosalyn... let's go meet the neighbors." Binky didn't seem to notice that both father and daughter kept giving each other glares out of the corner of their eyes.

The house they were going to was exactly where Binky had indicated - across the street from the Mallard's own. It was a decent looking place, though it looked in need of a new (brighter) colored paint job and replacements on the shutters over the windows in the front. Drake Mallard had been so busy lately he hadn't noticed a moving truck in the neighborhood nor had he noticed that the formerly empty house had gained a neater lawn and several wind chimes on the porch.

Once they were standing on the front porch Drake noticed several other additions to the house that seemed new. One new thing being a set of odd looking masks on the outer wall. Gosalyn seemed to notice them as well, her wandering hand grazing along the mouth hole on one. Drake grabbed her hand, as if she were a young duckling about to touch fire. Something about the mask made Drake feel unease letting Gosalyn touch. Particularly the mask that portrayed a fox with large fangs at the corner of its mouth.

"I wonder what those are supposed to be..." Drake mumbled, watching Binky approach the door. "Binky, did you catch the name of the people that live here now?"

"Rainbird, I think."

Drake's eyes lit up. "That's --!"

Binky was knocking on the door. Drake worked to calm himself, he'd almost said something that only Darkwing Duck would know. _Rainbird. Rainbird was the name of that thief. _Darkwing Duck had worked all night, even with the help of S.H.U.S.H. information to find out more about this 'Brigley Rainbird' - but the only thing that he'd come across was a bird from Alaska that had wrote several books about mythology and cultural stories.

Shaking his head Drake realized Gosalyn was staring at him. "Dad, what's wrong..."

"Gosalyn, stay close to me. I think I might have met this person recently..." Whispered the father to his daughter, "Last night in fact..."

Gosalyn began to say, _"But you were at work last night?" _

The front door opened just slightly, a creaking of the hinges and the sound of feet shuffling filled the air. A tiny beak appeared in the door, followed by the face of a young fowl. "Yes? Can I help you?"

The door was only open enough that Drake could see it was a blue-eyed black bird. Binky smiled in her usual warm manner, "Hello, young lady... is your parents home? We'd like to welcome your family and you into your new house!"

The girl stood completely still for a moment, not replying as she looked at Binky, as if judging whether or not to close the door again or not, "Hold on, let me get my dad..."

With that she let the door go, disappearing into the house. Binky looked over her shoulder to the other two - shrugging her shoulders. "What a cute little raven..."

_Raven. So I imagine her father is the one I met last night... _Drake thought, hoping (and not hoping at the same time) that he might have found the paper snatcher from last night.

A moment later the door was opened by the little girl once more. "He says to invite you into the living room. He's just finishing up in his study... he'll be with us shortly."

Pushing the door open the young bird waited for the three to enter before she closed the door behind them. The inside of the house was fairly clean, despite the fact that boxes still were scattered throughout the hallway that lay before them. The half-opened boxes, with their contents spilling out the top, were all neatly labeled. Drake read the box labels as they went down the hall, instead of 'kitchen' and 'bathroom' some of them read 'Aztec' and 'Mongolian' - oddly enough they all looked to be filled with books.

"So, do you like it in Saint Canard? Miss...?" Binky asked as she followed the young fowl's lead through the house.

"Mim-z. Mim-z Rainbird. And I think everything but the weather is enjoyable." Answered the raven, "Hopefully we can stay..."

Gosalyn had not said a thing since they'd entered the house. Though her eyes were wide and searching over the entire place with her usual since of curiosity. Not one of the recently hung wall decorations had escaped her sights - most of them were masks just like those outside. A deer mask hung over the entrance to the stairwell. A wolf mask on the way to the kitchen.

Mim-z lead them into the living room, which looked almost identical in structure to the Mallard's own with the exception of the strange decor in the house. All of the window shades were pulled, the only light in the room was from several dim lamps in the corners.

"Does this place remind you of Morgana's a bit?" Gosalyn questioned her father.

"I don't think even Morg has this bad of taste..."

"I don't mean the way it looks, dad. It's just something about it reminds me of her house." Gosalyn sighed before she got ahead of her father approaching the raven girl. "Where'd you guys get all of these cool mask at, Mim-z?"

"They've been in our family for ages, really." Mim-z said, as she stopped in the center of the living room. Motioning for the couch the young fowl asked, "Is any of you thirsty? I have some raspberry sun tea in the kitchen..."

"That sounds nice, dear..." Binky smiled, slowly approaching the sofa and placing the picnic basket on her lap as she sat down. "So, Mim-z what's your father's line of work?"

"He's actually looking for a job now..."

Drake didn't say anything, but noted that the raven didn't truly answer the question. Just before Drake could join the Muddlefoot on the sofa another raven entered. It was the same raven Darkwing Duck had encountered just the night before; he tried to hide any hint of his shock on his face. It probably worked because the raven made no reaction - he simply entered.

"Good evening, guest. Mim-z tells me you are our new neighbors..." The bird's face held no expression, like that same night before to Darkwing Duck. "I thank you for making us feel so welcome. Sorry I couldn't join you sooner..."

Drake didn't know what to say - all the things he could think of would possibly sound like Darkwing speaking and not Drake Mallard, the clueless citizen of Saint Canard. Binky was the first to speak, "Well, Mister Rainbird, it's a pleasure to meet you. I hope your stay in the neighborhood has been pleasant so far."

"It's getting there. This place isn't home to us yet, but it will be soon enough." Rainbird replied as he slowly stalked into the living room, taking a seat across from Binky in a stiff looking chair. Lacing his fingers together he questioned, "What are your names, if I might ask, neighbors..."

"Oh how silly of me! I'm Binky Muddlefoot and this is Drake Mallard and his daughter Gosalyn." Binky introduced, "The Mallard's are directly across from you, and we're beside them."

"How quaint. What a tightly knit neighborhood this must be to give us such a welcome. I'm Brigley, by the way..." The raven extended his hand towards Drake. Drake reluctantly took it, shaking it as he would anyones. The raven smiled towards Drake, the same vicious smile he had before. Letting Drake's hand free the raven straightened in his chair, "Is Mim-z in the kitchen?"

"Yes, sir." Mim-z cried leaning out of the kitchen. "I'm just getting ice for the tea."

Brigley nodded turning his attention to Binky Muddlefoot, "A folklorist."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm a folklorist. Or I was until I retired about a year ago... I heard you asking Mim-z about my work. I'm just looking for any kind of work that will have me around right now. That in itself is a task." said Rainbird with a sigh.

"Well you look like a very able person, Mister Rainbird, there are plenty of well-paying jobs in Saint Canard." Binky reassured, "I'm sure you'll get a job soon after you settle down. Why just the other day I saw a job for a life-guard at the Public Pool. With a few training classes anyone could be ready for that job. And another job I saw at the pizza place for a bicycle delivery person... There are plenty of things!"

"Well... thank you for the confidence, Mrs Muddlefoot, but those jobs would be someone impossible for me to get, you understand?" Rainbird noted, "Even if I could convience them I would be able to do them... as I know I surely can."

Drake folded his arms, trying to think of exactly what the bird meant. "So if you can do them what's to stop you? So what if some people say you can't do it... as long as you believe in your own abilities who cares..."

"That's encouraging to hear, actually, Mister Mallard. But can I ask you, would you let your daughter..." Rainbird sighed, leaning back in the chair, "... would you let anyone's daughter swim in a pool where the life guard was - I hate this word, truly -handicapped...?"

Drake didn't say anything nor did Binky and Gosalyn.

"I know how the world works. I know laws try to make it fair; where everyone can do the best of their abilities to obtain happiness and joy from their lives. Think about this rationally - would I make a good life guard without all of my senses to guide me? Would anyone trust me, rather, to be able to save people?" Rainbird asked, a hint of a smile touching the edge of his beak, "I know I can do that job. Others may not know I can do that job... but if they doubt me - maybe eventually I will begin to doubt myself. If I doubt myself - then I'm no longer doing my best... I am no longer able. The true handicap... self-doubt."

"I've never heard it put that way. I understand what you are trying to say..." Drake nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. For some reason he could feel exactly what the raven was speaking of... self-doubt was the killer of Darkwing Duck on some occasions too. Though Darkwing would not admit it - he wanted more than anything for others to believe in him. If others believed in him; he could do anything in the world without a thought of failure. "I understand what you're saying, but you can't expect people to help you unless you help yourself. I'm not saying you don't do that anyhow - or whatever your handicap is - you wouldn't have made it this far."

"I owe it mostly to be wife, who is no longer of this world, and my daughter. She believes I am still the great raven I used to be."

Mim-z reentered the room, carrying a serving tray with five cups of tea. "You are still a great folklorist. You'll find work doing what you love once more, dad. You just can't give up. Sight or no sight you're still the best storyteller in the world..."

* * *

**Cultural/"Fun-Factoid" Notes**

_The following notes are basically because I refuse to have my characters become Mary-Sues or Harry-Sues for that matter. I don't insert the backgrounds of my characters into my stories, so if anyone is curious as to the background stories you can PM me or maybe if many people ask I could make it a side-story but I doubt it because my characters really aren't that interesting, ne? Profiles also on request only... (I really don't think my characters are all that interesting.)_

**Folklorist **_Brigley Rainbird's profession back before he lost his sight. He was born into the profession, taking it over for his dad was his predestined goal in life. Folklorist do just what the name implies, they know folklore. I got the idea for him to be a folklorist from Tactics where Kintaro Ichinomiya is a Japanese folklorist who often sees spirits that no one else sees. Brigley's studies have stretched into almost all forms of folklore. He enjoys mostly Native American and that of ancient Mexico._

**Brigley, Mim-z and Gimbel **_All three names are from the first verse of the Jabberwolky poem from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Though they are spelt different. I wanted to make their names something odd and maybe even memorable. _

**Raven? **_Actually Gimbel and Brigley are ravens. Mim-z is a magpie/raven. _

**Mask**_ I think I have a mask fetish. I love wooden mask. As a matter of fact I have a mask of a demon on my wall. You'd think it'd give me nightmares but I love it. Brigley's mask are mostly like totem pole heads. Very square looking. _

**Sun Tea**_ Very light colored tea, unlike Southern Tea (dark tea, very sweet and thick - the kind I make) and those that come in hot varieties. You place the tea outside on a summer's day and let the tea bags seep in that way for a long time. Very delicious. _


	8. seven

_Darkwing Duck belongs to Disney, as does Ducktales. Brigley, Mim-z and Gimbel belong to me entirely._

* * *

_**Chapter Seven**_

* * *

**G**osalyn Mallard was quiet; far to quiet for her father's liking. As soon as they'd stepped out of ear-shot of their neighbor, Binky Muddlefoot, Drake asked his daughter, "Are you okay, Gos?"

"I could ask you the same thing..." Was the reply, not sounding to Drake much like his daughter at all. It sounded like a more mature young lady than what Drake had grown accustom to; he was worried now about her. She sighed, drawing a hand up into her hair to smooth down a loose red strand that was falling into her face. "All that time in there... I wanted to ask you something, but now I don't know what to say, dad. Are you sure that guy is him... the thief, I mean."

Drake's eyes glanced down to the pavement as they walked back to their house. "It's him. I'm completely sure. He's the one I saw. He's the one I read about as well, the folklorist that wrote those books."

"Something about him, dad, just..." Gosalyn stopped mid-sentence, shaking her head. She glanced to her father for a moment, "Listen! I've got to run and do some last-minute homework I forgot about! See ya!"

"Wha-a... Gos, wait..." Drake's eyes shot up to watch his daughter as she began to run the short distance between them and the front door. Now more worried than ever because he knew that Gosalyn was most likely making an excuse up to leave him behind Drake let her go, not knowing anything further to say. Gosalyn disappeared into the front door, leaving it open behind her. Drake's walk slowed down until he came to a stop at the end of his lawn, turning back towards the direction of his new neighbor's house. "I can't let this effect me. He's a criminal no matter what the circumstances. I have to do my best to stop him. Stopping him comes first, then helping him."

"D.W.?" Launchpad stuck his head out the front door. The pilot scratched his head as if he'd heard everything Drake had said. "What's going on? I got here just a while ago and you both were missing."

"Launchpad. I need to talk to you about something... Can we go to the Tower, though? I need some space to pace around and clear my thoughts..."

Honker Muddlefoot heard his mother come in downstairs. He was headed back upstairs when she'd come back inside, missing the picnic basket that she'd carried out. Honker didn't think too much of it - after all she loved giving away things her friends and people in the neighborhood. He didn't bother asking her what was going on. Truth be known; Honker was more worried about getting all of his homework done. It wasn't that Honker Muddlefoot could not do it; it was that he lacked the time to do it. After spending at least three hours inside the confines of his room, not even listening to the radio as he worked, he'd decided enough was enough - he would have to stop to get something to eat before continuing.

"Mom, do you have something to snack on? I know it's close to dinner but I'd still like to have something before going back to my homework." Honker explained to his mother, once she'd entered the house and kicked off her shoes at the front entrance.

Binky's smile didn't falter as she replied to her son, heading in the direction of the kitchen, "Of course you can, Honker dear! You've been working hard today after all."

Honker smiled, pushing up his glasses on his face as he followed his mother. She dug in a cabinet beside the refrigerator until she found exactly what she was looking for - a large bag of animal crackers. "How's this to tie you over, dear?"

"All right, thanks." Honker took two hands full of the crackers, putting them into his pockets. "I won't let it ruin my dinner."

"I know, dear. It's been a long day hasn't it?" Binky asked as she folded the top of the bag and replaced it on the shelf. "I went with Gosalyn and Drake Mallard to meet the new neighbors."

Honker only nodded, putting several of the crackers into his mouth.

"They were so much like the Mallards that I'm sure Drake, Gosalyn and they will get along just fine. Except..." Binky stopped short. "The father seems very... depressed. I'm sure it's over the loss of his wife, and having to raise his daughter so alone..."

Honker saw his mother's face turn into a rare frown.

"... We'll have to help them get along, right Honker?" Her smile returned as she turned away from her son, "After all, everyone needs a little bit of help."

Her son nodded, "Well... I'm going to get back to my work, okay, mom?"

Binky cleared her throat, "All right. I'm going to order out a pizza, I think."

As soon as the word 'pizza' left her mouth Herb Muddlefoot appeared in the doorway - as if on cue. "Pizza, honey. We haven't ordered out in such a long time. How'a about adding anchovies, bacon, artichoke and whip topping on it this time!"

"S-sure, Herb. Lets get a small taco pizza too, you know Honker and I love those..."

Honker smiled, passing by his father as he exited the kitchen and headed towards his room. As soon as he was inside his room and closed his door - Honker realized he was not alone. His window was open and an arrow was piercing his poster of Albert Einstein on the wall (just across from the window). "Gosalyn?"

"Honker!" He heard a whisper from behind him, turning around the Muddlefoot saw not Gosalyn Mallard but her alter-ego Quiverwing Quack. A feeling of dread overcoming him as he realized what would be asked of him, "Get on your costume, we've got to go check out the Saint Canard Paper Company!"

* * *

"So exactly what are we doing here, Gos... er...? Quiverwing?" Arrowkid questioned as they climbed through the rubble of the fire-torn building. It was dark, as most of Quiverwing's missions were. Dark and dangerous. "I mean, this place is d-dangerous... and not to mention this is where your dad, I mean, Darkwing Duck ran into that criminal that left that bruise on him... and Launchpad."

Quiverwing rolled her eyes, heading for a ransacked pile of papers on the floor, "We're trying to find out what that looter wanted with ordinary paper. Plus, the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime, right?"

"W-what!" _Arrowkid the fearless... _Quiverwing rolled her eyes as she watched her sidekick's mouth twist into a frown. "I should be at home, eating taco pizza and doing my political science homework, Quiverwing!"

"Why? Even if you miss one assignment you'll still have a better grade than everyone in the class, including me, so what's it matter?" Quiverwing kicked another stack of papers, grumbling, "Most of these papers aren't even written on! This is strange. It's like it's not what's written on them at all that is important. Maybe it was a trick he was playing on Darkwing..."

Arrowkid was about to reply; about to tell Quiverwing that it didn't matter what his grade was he was doing his homework anyway. It wasn't that Arrowkid was out for the best grade; it wasn't that he was the smartest kid in the school -- he just did his homework and tried his hardest. Arrowkid -- no, Honker Muddlefoot -- hated being referred to as the _smart kid._ It was this stereo-type that had him strung onto a flagpole by his underpants and knocked over for his lunch money. Honker hated it and he wished sometimes that he could be the _flakey kid _instead (if not just for one day).

"What's that?" Quiverwing questioned, her voice hushed. Arrowkid was pulled out of his thoughts by Quiverwing's hand coming over his mouth. Quiverwing drug him behind a pile of coal-colored rubble, hiding from the light.

"... No, no. Gimbel!" Hissed a voice. Quiverwing's ears perked up as she realized that the voice was familiar. "You should insist to talk straight to the leaders of the operation. We don't talk to lackeys, even flamboyant ones like SteelBeak. We came to them; it was not the other way around..."

The shadow-cloaked figure of Gosalyn Mallard's neighbor appeared in the middle of the room, with a phone pressed against his skull.

Arrowkid shot Quiverwing a glance, mouthing the word, "_SteelBeak_."

"... I found it. It's mine. I only needed significant funding to make it a reality and F.O.W.L. provided it, Gimbel. I don't want you dealing with that SteelBeak anymore... next time I'll be the one to talk to him, all right. Don't be upset. I didn't mean to get angry... it wasn't at you, anyhow. How are things in Duckburg? Nine? You're doing well then." The raven sighed as he paused, Quiverwing assumed the other on the line was replying -- this Gimbel -- and that Brigley was giving him a moment to speak. "When you're satisfied that no more remain in Duckburg come to my house... we'll assembled them here. Only then will I fill in the details to F.O.W.L."

Quiverwing watched as the raven strode to the center of the room, rummaging through the same papers that the masked heroine had. Arrowkid shifted the weight on his feet nervously as the raven's head perked up for a mere second before he began talking on the phone again. "Listen, I'm on another mission so I'll call you again tomorrow..."

Once the raven hung up the phone he put the device away in his pocket, only to pull out another item. Without proper lighting in the space Quiverwing could only identify the object as another cellular phone, it was small and jet-black with several buttons on the outside. The thief held the object level hovering it over the pile of papers. Suddenly a small, clicking sound arose in the area; it reminded Gosalyn of a metal-detector's noise. Continuing to watch the raven she noticed that as he waved the device closer to the papers, the sound grew louder and more frequent.

Quiverwing glanced to Arrowkid, nodding to him as if to say, _"Let's get dangerous!" _-- or some similar catch-phrase (she'd yet to come up with anything nearly as good as her father's line). Arrowkid's eyes widened and he fervidly shook his head negatively, urging her not to move from the hiding place. It was too late for that, Quiverwing pulled an arrow from her quiver and drew it tightly back in the bow-string. Stepping out into the open, "Hold it right there, thief!"

"Not again." She heard the thief mumble as he stopped his actions, "You sound as if you should be at home already, tucked in bed. Your parents know you're out this late?"

"I'll ask the questions! What are you after here -- what's so special about nabbing paper, anyhow!" Quiverwing yelled in her most fearsome tone, "And don't try anything funny! I've got an arrow with your name on it if you try even one move against me."

"Playing with arrows at your age? So, you want to know what it is about this paper. I suppose you're with Mister Darkwing Duck, then?" The raven stated, "Because I don't imagine you witnessing this scene alone would give you enough information to deduce I want only certain papers... or that you need to _tell _me I've a weapon aimed at me."

"W-well, of course! Darkwing Duck and I are allies in defending Saint Canard. Anything he's doing concerns me! Don't change the subject: What's so special about that paper?" Quiverwing asked, out of the corner of her eyes she watched Arrowkid come to stand just behind her.

The raven bent down, picking through the papers until he was able to pull a single sheet from the group. "May I then? I don't think telling you will do much good, girl. It's not like its going to all become clear once you've seen it with your own eyes..."

Quiverwing's brow became worried as she watched the raven gingerly walk towards the window, "Watch it, if you try to escape... I've got good aim and speed -- you won't get away."

The raven's grinning face was illuminated by the moonlight from the window; he obviously feared nothing that Quiverwing could do to him. Quiverwing grunted, at first not understanding the meaning of the bird walking to the window and holding up a piece of paper but soon it became clear. The paper began to glow -- not the entirety of the paper but places within the paper -- a hazy violet hue filled the air. However it was not merely glowing, it began to etch out what looked to be letters within the weaving of the paper.

"What is that?" Quiverwing questioned, hoping the raven's honestly would continue. "Magic?"

"Not exactly. This paper belonged to a certain tree, from a certain part of the world. Too bad the world uses up so much paper, right? Whatever happened to recycling, reducing and reusing?" A hoarse laugh cut through the air, the raven was cackling at his own joke. Quiverwing grimaced at the joke. "It could be considered magic how the information that once was in the confines of a tree -- is now in this paper."

"So it's information... What is it for? What do you want it for?" Quiverwing stared at the illuminated paper, not recognizing the written symbols that it bore. Arrowkid was beside her now; wonder filled his eyes as well.

"It's for a weapon. A weapon that could significantly help out the Fiendish Organization for World Larceny." He told her letting his arm with the paper drop down from the moonlight, to his side.

Quiverwing hesitated to ask but found herself eager to know more, "Do you actually know _what _F.O.W.L. does? Why are you helping them? They will be using this weapon to hurt people, many people!"

Brigley smiled again, "You'll see whether or not I know what F.O.W.L. is, and what they're going to do with this weapon... but I really must be going now..."

"I don't think so!" Quiverwing snarled, pulling her somewhat relaxed hands back on the bow so the potential for velocity was maximum again. "I won't let you leave, and I won't let you assemble any kind of weapon for F.O.W.L.!"

The raven sighed, "That, little Quiverwing, may not be a choice for you to make. Tell Darkwing Duck about all of this, if you wish. I will be looking forward to him being in the picture, but you... you're far too young to crime fight." The bird backed towards the window, preparing it seemed to leave by jumping from it (as Darkwing had told her the raven did before). Before he could move however Quiverwing launched an arrow at him; reaching back rapidly for another even before the first arrow had met its mark and letting another arrow fly. The first arrow landed just next to the thief, Quiverwing had intended it to be a warning for him to not leave through the window. The second arrow was as Quiverwing realized that the raven would not be scared off by her arrows -- it was intended to hit. And hit the arrow did, striking the raven through the arm -- it was none fatal but none-the-less an unpleasant reminder to the bird that Quiverwing meant business. Quiverwing wordlessly apologized to the raven (and his absent daughter). "I mean it! Stay where you are! Hurting you isn't my favorite idea, but you will not release a weapon on Saint Canard, raven-boy!"

"Q-Quiverwing!" Arrowkid warned seeing the raven before them growing more irritated than anything else.

The raven's thin fingers moved onto the arrow sticking out of his feathered arm, blood seeped down from it slowly as he began to pull at the end of the wooden stick. The arrow had clearly gone in one side of his arm and out the other side, so the raven without much hesitation snapped the arrow in two, pulling the arrow out as two pieces instead of one. "Now... I feel as though I have to do something kind of violent to get away from you... forgive this, will you?"

The raven tossed the broken arrow down at Quiverwing's feet, but when the arrow should have landed on the ground with a clatter it did not -- the arrow began to sink into the flooring as if it were melting. After the arrow disappeared from Quiverwing's sight, Arrowkid and she simply stared at the place where the arrow was once before. "What-t happened?" Began Arrowkid but his words were muffled by the sound of splintering wood. The flooring beneath them felt weakened and ready to collapse.

"You'd best not move lest you want the floor to cave on you..." The raven laughed hoarsely, "I didn't want to do it but it seems I had no choice if I wanted to remain unscathed, correct?"

"Y-You can't just leave us-s here! What sort of magic are-e you using!" Every time Quiverwing moved an inch the floorboards began to creak, more wood splintering beneath her.

"It's just an old raven's trick, that's all, hardly enough to be called proper magic. And no I don't feel right just leaving here with you two in mortal danger, but what other choice do you leave me with? I will have the police on the way within ten minutes. Try to stay balanced until they arrive..." He sounded honest but as he climbed out the window Quiverwing could swear his mouth twisted into a horrible smile.

Quiverwing wondered exactly how a raven like this could be left in charge of a young girl, let alone such a nice girl as Mim-z had appeared to be. She must not have a clue as to what her father was like. A calculating raven with the means to make a weapon -- somehow -- out of this magical paper.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Next chapter is back to Duckburg. Thanks to the readers, once more. _


	9. eight

_darkwing/ducktales is totally disney. gimbel, mim-z and brigley are mine. enjoy.  
_

* * *

Chapter 8

**Duckburg**

**Wednesday, 1:00 PM**

Webby had not forgotten her lost art; nor did she intend to do so anytime soon. While Scrooge McDuck paced around the office before her, Webby wondered if her _uncle _was angry with her for letting the raven trick her, but even before she could ask him Scrooge turned to her, "Are you all right, lass?"

She nodded.

"That's all that matters then, eh?" Scrooge smiled for a brief moment, "But now I am more curious than before about what this villain wants. Making enemies of everyone including Magica DeSpell."

Webby nodded again, preparing to leave the room as she heard the boy's voices just outside. She stopped for a moment, turning to McDuck, "Uncle Scrooge... if it's not your hand-writing... what could it be?"

"I don't know, Webby. Don't worry too much, lass... You're uncle has a plan to get this mess cleared up and hopefully getting all of that paper back." Scrooge reassured her before he returned to his pacing.

* * *

"For the last time, Fenton, nothing is wrong with the Gizmosuit." Gyro Gearloose told the flustered duck. Fenton had tediously asked the scientist nearly every question he could think of about the workings of the suit, only to realize that perhaps it wasn't the suit malfunctioning.

"Then... what could it be?" Fenton rested his hand against his chin, pondering. The spot on his head hadn't gone away, but it didn't feel sore either. Fenton's quest for answers had been shot down once Gyro concluded the Gizmosuit was completely, utterly normal.

The two of them had taken refuge in Scrooge's library, a nearly unused room -- except when Scrooge had need of it or the boys had a school project to complete. Fenton flopped down in one of the leather chairs, repeating miserably, "What can it be?"

"Perhaps Scrooge is right..." Gyro said, his wandering interest leading him to a dusty shelf of books in the far corner of the library. "It's magic..."

"Magic? You're a scientist, and you're telling me to believe in magic...?" Fenton questioned with a hint of laughter in his voice, "A curse, then?"

"Or..." Gyro began to thumb his fingers over several books in front of him. Pulling one book free from the shelf, Gyro brushed the dust free from the volume. "Perhaps, it's like acupuncture..."

Fenton's eyes lit up, "Acupuncture? You mean like stopping pain or bad habits by placing a needle in a certain spot on the body?"

Gyro returned to Fenton, giving the duck the book he held. "There are kinds that focus on pressure points on the body instead of a needle... you stop doing a habit lately? Chewing your nails... singing in the shower..."

The accountant shook his head sadly, "Nope. I haven't got a clue. But if I could guess..."

"About what?"

"The nature of our villain. I could guess that he wasn't always a criminal. Maybe he once helped others... with this acupuncture of his... and maybe he used it on me... as his only means to defend himself..."

"That's not true!" Called a voice. Fenton and Gyro looked to see the door of the library had been opened and they were joined by the triplets and Webby.

"When we were in the park he used magic to defend himself against Magica!" Dewey said, the others nodded, "He could have hurt you seriously bad if he'd attacked you with magic."

"Maybe that's why he didn't do it." Webby piped in, the boys looked confused at her logic. "He could've hurt me too, but he didn't..."

"Whatever the reason, he still must be stopped!" Scrooge McDuck's voice rang out as he too entered the room, "I have a plan that will involve the help of GizmoDuck as well as you boys..."

"Us?" The boys chimed in unison.

"What about me?"

"You too Webby." Scrooge McDuck reassured the young duckling, "You four need to go around town and tell everyone you can about a new Scrooge McDuck Ice Cream Parlor opening up this Friday."

"Right!" They all four said, with eager smiles on their faces. Immediately they began to leave for to complete the task, but Hewey stopped before leaving the room, "Why not just advertise it, Unc'a Scrooge? Or hand out fliers for it?"

"Because that would take paper..." Scrooge smiled, "And we're going to need all of that we can get our hands on... so no wasting it on advertising it... Oh, and Dewey, be sure to tell everyone that when they come to the ice cream parlor they will get a free menu booklet at the door..."

Fenton looked to Gyro, who was returning a confused glance, "What's the plan Mister McDuck?"

"We're going to lure this villain in to our grasps, Fenton. He wants paper, so we'll give him so much he can't resist!" McDuck laughed, rubbing his hands together, "Now, are you ready for the plan?"

* * *

**Duckburg **

**10:00PM**

By the end of the day the entire town was buzzing about the new ice cream parlor that McDuck was going to open, it reached the ears of almost every citizen. By that night even those who had no friends or relations in Duckburg heard of the ice cream parlor, including the raven who just so happened to wander behind a mother and daughter who were discussing the matter. Gimbel's beak twisted into a smile as he followed the two citizens with only the intention of hearing their conversation. Surprisingly the two didn't notice the lanky raven following them, the two were only interested in figuring out when they should stop by the parlor on its grand opening.

_So, a trap, then? _Pondered the raven, but only grinned and shook his head. _It doesn't matter, does it? You'll be going anyways, right, Gimbel? _

"Excuse me. Sorry to intrude on the conversation..." Gimbel spoke up finally, stepping beside the two as he made eye contact with the mother. "Could you tell me more about this parlor?"

"W-well of course, sir." The mother put a hand against her face, nervously, "I hear it'll be opening Friday near downtown Duckburg."

"Really? Well, thank you very much..." Gimbel smiled to the duckling and then to her mother and left them behind as he strode ahead of them. Sighing, the raven run a hand through his feathers. _What was she so nervous about? I probably should have been more nervous than her. I don't understand these Duckburgians. Anyhow at least I know where it's at... _

"E-excuse me, sir."

Gimbel turned around to find the mother and daughter just behind him. "Yes?"

"You dropped this..." The daughter spoke up, handing a mechanical device to Gimbel; it was the device he used to locate the paper.

"Oh, thank you... very much." He gladly accepted the device from the duckling's hands.

"What is that?" She asked him, much to her mother's displeasure. Gimbel could tell the mother wanted nothing more than to return the item and leave once more.

"This it's nothing... It's a low-level radiation detector used by scientist." Gimbel hated honesty; but being raised to be an honest creature he could find no reason to go against his nature. He returned the device to his pocket and turned away from the couple just in time to see the mother's exasperated (and confused) face. "Thanks again."

"...What's it used for? I mean, why do you have it?"

The raven stopped in his tracks. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as he prepared to speak the _painful truth_ again, "I'm looking for objects that admit low-levels of radioactivity in hopes of using them to take over the world..."

"A-a-all right then, Gillian. I think it's time to go home, then... good afternoon, sir!" The mother grabbed her daughter's hand and began to rush off with her.

Gimbel just let her leave, with nothing more than a shrug and a smile. _I hate being honest. Why did they always tell me not to lie... it would be so much easier to make friends if I could just lie a few times..._

* * *


	10. Weyeb' Codex

_Author's note: This is just me having a bit of fun. All from a "book" written by Brigley Rainbird. I've bought about four books on Mayan/Aztec culture and I've been trying to come up with some kind of background story of this weapon "Holes in the Sky" (H.I.T.S.). So far this is it. Mostly made up; but I do use many things from the Mayan/Aztec folklore. I love writing things that are strange, half-truths... It's a force of habit.  
_

_Terms explained at the bottom. Note that this isn't a essential "chapter" to read, I was only having fun. :) Enjoy.  
_

* * *

**Wayeb' Codex (Excerpt)  
**

_... Thus a greater meaning was given to the temple found in the depths of the forest. No longer were they unnamed ruins of some ancient culture, but Mayan in origin. Though none of the peoples I have talk to have yet to be able to explain where exactly in their culture the Waybe' Codex came from or what it's meaning was._

_I, having never found a codex or other artifact myself, named it after the unlucky days from the Mayan calendar because of the first line of the codex - which spoke of several unlucky day rituals that took place at the time the codex was being written._

_"The forecast is disaster." it read. "The unlucky days of Weyeb' have come once more. Thunder Beast is free to cast his blind gaze on the world once more..."_

_According to ---- the days at the end of the calendar, Weyeb', were days when the portal between the world of the living and dead dissolve completely. This codex tells of the time when a great beast came from the sky and threatened to devour the entire world. The meaning is unclear as to what the disaster was that the codex speaks of only that it is described as in the second line of the codex as: "Large and monstrous the Thunder Beast's weapon was, which caused nothing but sorrow for those who lay eyes upon it. Threatening ruin on the realm of mortal. Thunder Beast's brother, the mighty feathered-serpent, called out to him from somewhere unseen; called out to the Beast and told him to banish the weapon forever. Thunder Beast's unseeing eyes refused to stop his revenge on those who killed the gods and said, 'Now, all will belong to the underworld'."_

_Thunder Beast, the Aztec's equivalent would be Xolotl the God of Lightning and Death, in the Mayan lore is a sightless animal most likely a dog or tapir. According to previously translated lore, and those told by descendants of the Mayan's themselves, the beast lost his sight when the other gods cast themselves into the sun to make daylight -- Thunder Beast cried his eyes physically out. Xolotl, the Aztec beast, was also god of the underworld, Shabalba (Mictlan)._

_It is to be assumed, since the meaning remains far from explained by the text on the codex in great detail, that the Thunder Beast was returning on this unlucky day to expand his population in the underworld. The meaning for his sudden expansionism is unfounded because unlike other afterlife tales the Mesoamerican afterworld is far different than other versions of underworlds and hells._

_Another oddity of this codex is that the next part highlights the nineteen (twenty) days of the year. More or less the translation of the following text containing the usage of the calendar days is a map. Following the map, from the location of the temple where the codex was found, a string of trees is clearly the goal. Those said trees had been standing for many years, but clearly not old enough for the codex to be claiming they were the true goal. It is unknown what the 'map' pointed to perhaps a sacrificial alter or other relic. Though the air near the trees seems lighter and more relaxing than all that around it._

_Back at the temple the gentlemen that invited me on this expedition were setting up camp so my wanderings through the woods had to cense, if not momentarily..._

_... Imix, Ik, Akbul, Kan, Chiccan, Cimi, Manik, Lamat, Muluc, Oc, Chuen, Eb, Ben, Ix, Men, Cib, Caban, Etzbab, Cauac and Ahau... all Tzolk'in calendar days -- all symbols that lined the opening corridor to the temple. It was strange because they bore little significance at first, but now I feel as though they are there for a reason instead of decoration. Like keys to a puzzle that have yet to be fitted in the proper space._

_The gentlemen ask me to go inside the deeper part of the temple to translate something on the wall. To my disappointment it is only a diagram of the Mayan months. Unable to give them anything but an explanation; they seem not to enjoy my simple explanation for the matter so I give them the meanings behind the month names. Something strikes me as odd -- the symbol for the Haab' (Month) Xul the Dog looked odd. The Xul symbol seemed to point to a certain direction. Following the direction it was obvious that it was a sign to head deeper into the room we were standing in. Another wall of symbols it lead me to, and this one far more interesting..._

_... The symbols on the doorway where of Venus and the Evening Star... _(Xolotl's symbols)

_... Though it is hard to believe there is something glowing in the trees where I'd been investigating before. I don't tell those at the camp, they won't believe it anyhow. Until I get a rational explanation I will do nothing but pray we stay in this temple longer than a few more days. The gentlemen are disappointed. They come off to me as treasure hunters occasionally though they are scholars..._

_... the trees seem to contain a power. Origin unknown as well as purpose. Perhaps the only reasonable explanation is meteorite worshipping. This would support the claim about the Thunder Beast's anger -- a fallen star could have landed in the forest and caused immeasurable damage to the surrounding area..._

_... below some overgrowth on the ground is an alter, it feels hollow beneath it..._

_... due to funding cut the gentlemen and I have been called back early from our research. I will be taking photographs home for further studies of the area and for purposes of written works._

(Several photograph pages to follow: PG 114, left to right order, ----, ----, ---- and myself., PG 115, Entrance to the temple with calendar symbols, PG 116, tree circle without light, PG 117, alter between the trees, 118, temple at a distance)

* * *

**Tzolk'in - **_Mayan calendar with 365 days and 52 Haabs (Months) called Calendar Round. Also has another way of being used called the Long Count, used to track long periods of time._

**Weyeb' **- _five unlucky days at the end of a calendar cycle. According to the Wikipedia explanation, "...During Weyeb' portals between the mortal realm and the Underworld dissolved. No boundaries prevented the ill-intended deities from causing disasters... To ward off these evil spirits, the Mayan had customs and rituals they practiced during Weyeb'. From example people avoided leaving their houses or washing or combing their hair..." _

**Thunder Beast/Xolotl -**_Mayan version is actually called Nanahautl - which is the god of thunder and (strangely enough) skin diseases. He was called Thunder "Beast" (or God of Monstrosities) because of his strange appearance being mostly like either a dog or tapir without eyeballs. According to translated legends Nanahautl was about when the sun and moon. When the gods made up their minds to sacrifice themselves to give light to the sun - Nanahautl cried his eyes out (literally).  
_


	11. nine

_Disney owns Darkwing and Ducktales. I own Brigley, Mim-z and Gimbel. _**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**Duckburg**

**Thursday, 10:00 AM**

* * *

That raven would be here, this Scrooge kept telling himself, and he hoped his trap would work. If anything, Scrooge McDuck wanted the raven to answer for putting his nephews and Webby in danger (though, Scrooge admitted, Magica DeSpell did not help matters in that situation). This raven, whoever he was and whatever he wanted... Scrooge knew he had to stop in his tracks.

"It's time, unc'a Scrooge..." Hewey noted, his head bobbing towards the clock on the wall. They were all waiting in the middle of the ice cream shop's windows, staring at the line that had formed just outside. It seemed the line didn't end, people stretched on for blocks near the shop.

The shop was more than just a front to catch a criminal. It truly was an ice cream shop in every since, Scrooge had all intentions of opening the shop up in several months, but desperate times called for desperate measures (and lots of over-time). He gave the construction works bonuses for working on the shop so expediently.

"Of course... Let me get to the door, laddies..." Scrooge agreed, as he slowly wondered to himself: _Am I doing the right thing? _He'd been in debated about the entire situation for some time now -- the only problem with his plan was that he was involving innocent people. The visitors to the ice cream shop were unknowing pawns in his struggle to get a criminal. "It's too late now..."

"Eh?" Louie asked, hearing his uncle mutter something under his breath.

Scrooge had opened the door already, and people began to pour in. Scrooge smiled to the visitors of the shop: making an inward promise to each of them that no harm would come to them.

"Welcome, welcome ever'one to the grand openin' of The McDuck Ice Cream Parlor! Please stand in line an' just wait to be served! I'd personally like to thank y'e for comin' today. Every ice cream will be half-off today! Get your free ice cream flavors booklet from one of the lads and lass at the side of the doors..." Scrooge announced pointing to the lengthy counter of freezer with several uniformed employees behind them.

Every face that entered carried a smile, Scrooge noticed as he kept his eyes open for the thief that Fenton (as well as the children) had described. So far they were all the usual citizens of Duckburg. Scrooge fretted that his plan might fail as the day wore on. Hours of giving out booklets and ice cream and still no sign of the raven.

"Uncle, maybe he hasn't heard…" One of the triplets whispered, noticing Scrooge's depressed glances at the door.

Scrooge only nodded but did not reply to the youth. He began a long, sluggish walk towards the back of the store, to tell the hiding GizmoDuck that the 'stake-out' was off for the day. But before Scrooge could disappear into the 'freezer storage' area he noticed the entrance of a lanky, ebony raven into the shop. The raven's beak hinted at a clever smile as he looked around the shop; not looking in a suspecting manner but more curious than anything. Scrooge backed into the storage, telling GizmoDuck, "I think we've got him now…"

GizmoDuck, who'd been playing sudoku to pass the time away, gave Scrooge an anxious glance, "And I was almost through this triple-star level game too…"

"Play later, work now…" Scrooge grumbled as he hastily re-entered the shop. Watching the raven approaching the counter, surprisingly enough the raven hadn't even played any mind to the boys passing out booklets. Scrooge approached the raven, baring the best smile he could muster. "Aye! Welcome to the new ice cream parlor. What sort of ice cream would you fancy, lad?"

"Got anything in avocado?" Asked the raven tilting his head to one side as he watched Scrooge's expression turn worried, "No, eh? Mister McDuck?"

Scrooge stared at the raven for a moment, unsure for once what to say. The raven seemed to be well-aware of the situation he was in—that he was in some kind of trap. Scrooge hoped he wouldn't bolt or use one of the customers to his advantage as a hostage (that being Scrooge's greatest fear).

Instead the raven turned away from Scrooge, looking at the counter with a broad smile on his face, "I _do_ want to apologize for the mess I made at your office. It's usually not in my ethnics to do such a horrible thing. But I was driven to do it, not by my own needs but rather for work."

"Is that so, lad? And what about the time at the park?" The excuse of 'work' wasn't enough for Scrooge, but McDuck still needed information from the bird before GizmoDuck sprung into action. "Do you practice hurting people to get the job done, eh?"

"I do believe that was my fault, and I am sorry. I never expected that witch bird to show up at the park. But I made sure it won't happen again." The bird laughed pulling out a strange item from his pocket. The triplets and Webby eyed the strange item with wonder—none knowing what to make of the item. "If you would be so kind as to tell the little girl that I am indeed sorry for taking the unfinished picture."

Scrooge was handed a long rope with seven knots tied in the end of it. McDuck was dumbfounded by the seemingly irrelevant piece of rope and threw it to the ground before him. Anger in his voice he cried:

"Aye! Whatever you have planned I don't think we'll be taking part in it. I want you to return all of the paper that you stole, includin' the one you smuggled out of Webby-dear." Scrooge was fed up; no matter how much this raven wanted to make it sound like he wasn't a thief—he still was and a little apology wouldn't satisfy the normally pleasant and humble Scrooge McDuck.

With those words being said Scrooge backed away from the bird, queuing action from the hidden hero in the storage room. GizmoDuck came forward with his hands on his robotic hips, usually he'd do his own entrance (with more style than Scrooge allowed him) but this was _Scrooge's_ own plan so he decided to play secondhand-hero for the time being. "So we meet again, you pathetic paper pillager!"

The raven cocked his head to one side, turning his attention to Gizmo immediately, "Mister Robot! How's your head?"

"I um… it's fine." Gizmo said, but shook his head in disgust, "Now-w, Now put your hands in the air and surrender, fiend!"

"Oh, but all I came here for is ice cream… can't you give me a break?" Asked the raven, a pleading air about him as he watched GizmoDuck's outfit change to brandish an intimidating policeman's baton. "I promise not to make trouble."

Gizmo turned to Scrooge for a moment. "I don't-t… I don't think so…?"

Scrooge clapped a hand against his forehead, "Y'e can't get away from us by promisin' not to make trouble unless you make up for what y'e did by _returning_ the stolen paper."

"Oh, I understand." The raven's head bobbed to the millionaire's words, "Then, I suppose I'll be leaving then. I have many more things to get complete before this is all said and done."

"And I'm out to make sure you don't get a single thing on that list of 'to do's done!" GizmoDuck triumphantly proclaimed as he leapt towards the raven. In response the raven reflexively backed away towards the front of the shop; then all of a sudden took off out of the shop completely. Before GizmoDuck could follow the raven's retreat Scrooge stopped him, "Mister McDuck?"

"Be careful lad… he could be up to something." Scrooge warned before letting the robotic duck free to pursue his adversary.

GizmoDuck sped down the street, looking for signs of the fleeing raven. It was easy to find—he simply had to follow the trail of unhappy pedestrians. The trail led him into an alley (not one of the horror-movie style alleyway that scared Fenton as a youth and made him think the bogeyman was just about to attack) but one with the sunlight brightly penetrating its entirety. There is where GizmoDuck found the raven.

"You know…" The raven began, looking at the end of the alley which was simply a brick wall that gave him no exit. "My brother… used to say I was slow. I suppose this is just another moment of proof for him, if he were here that is."

"Ready to surrender?" Gizmo asked, hands on his hips, hoping he wouldn't have to prevent the raven from bolting again. "What is it you want with that paper anyhow, raven?"

"It's Gimbel Von Rainbird, and I want it to help my brother unleash a super-weapon on this world." The raven's crimson eyes seemed unremarkably sympathetic for a moment, "And that is the true, completely."

GizmoDuck was shocked; if it weren't for the vizor over his face the raven would have saw exactly how upset that Gizmo actually was. "Are you.. always so honest with everyone?"

"It's a tragedy, but yes, always. That's what is so painful with being made out t be a thief… when someone says, 'What are you doing with my paper?' I'd say, 'I'm stealing it and using it to take over the world'." Laughed the raven, shaking his head, "Are you sure you need to catch me today?"

"Unlike you, fiend, I have prior commitments to justice that have to be upheld. GizmoDuck doesn't let a thief go, no matter what the excuse might be…"

The raven nodded again before he slowly edged towards the back of the alleyway. GizmoDuck followed, watching the bird's contemplating eyes scanning the area—looking for a way out of his predicament. When the raven reacted, suddenly making a sideways dash straight at Gizmo, it reminded the robotic duck of a game of tag. The raven was the caught individual who couldn't return to 'base' and GizmoDuck was the catcher, 'who was it', that needed to tag someone before time was up. Gizmo lunged forward grabbing the raven's arm successfully with his right arm. But then just as Gizmo cried out, "Got'ya!" the raven's 'arm' seemed to disappear within Gizmo's iron grasp and the raven was behind him. Gimbel smiled eerily, "It's all an illusion, you know. And you can't win so…"

"Is that so? Well forgive me for being stubborn!" GizmoDuck cried, before turning around he threw an arm back against the raven's head—attempting to grab anything within reach to throw the raven to the ground. But once more the robotic duck hit nothing but air. This time when the bird reappeared it was beside Gizmo; Gizmo swiped again in vain.

_This isn't working!_ Fenton admitted to himself as he watched the raven evaporate into air again. So, GizmoDuck closed his eyes, thinking to himself: _Illusions only affect the eyes, right? Well, try it without looking. _This time when GizmoDuck heard a sound and struck at it he gripped the raven's feathered shoulder. GizmoDuck opened his eyes, mostly in surprise that his theory worked at all.

Before him the raven held out his arms, "You win. Then take me in, it won't do much good however. I'm finished with this town and plan to go to Saint Canard at once."

Gizmo's suit shifted and brought out a set of handcuffs, slapping them on the thief—reluctantly—wondering the entire time whether his intentions were to hand himself in at all. GizmoDuck didn't understand anything about this thief; he went against all protocol of a thief. Most criminals justify their crimes, keep them secret and use any means around them to free themselves.

"And there isn't any way you can just give back what's stolen before you are prosecuted by law and given punishment?" GizmoDuck questioned, almost feeling 'bad' that he was taking in such a seemingly honest thief. "You won't win in court, you know… And if this is true what you said about your brother I won't even let you carry out your plans."

"It won't matter what you allow. My brother will do anything he wishes." The raven wryly said, "Question…"

"Eh?"

"How's the ones from the park?"

GizmoDuck scratched his head, "Fine. Completely unscathed."

The raven stared at his handcuffs for a moment, "Good. Now shouldn't we go now? McDuck could be worried about you."

Gizmo made the raven walk in front of him out of the alley. To GizmoDuck this didn't feel like victory; it didn't feel like he'd saved the city from danger. He didn't understand why things had turned out so strange either, but he knew he was still doing the right thing no matter how 'off' it felt.

"Hey, Rainbird." GizmoDuck asked as they began to walk towards the ice cream parlor. "What's the thing on my head, anyhow?"

"To stop over-eating habits. Not that I thought you had one… It's just something to throw you off. Worked didn't it?" Laughed the criminal.

"Yea, I suppose so."

* * *

_**Author's Embarrassing Story (Erm, Notes)**: I just wanted to add something about the strange knot that Gimbel tries to give Scrooge. It's sort of an embarrassing story actually. I was at El Chico's Mexican restaurant with my church friends and my half-drunk cousin came in and started telling everyone this story about _La Chusa_ (I found out the name later he only recalled it as Witch Bird). He told us about the Witch Bird legend that his father used to tell him, and how to prevent the Witch Bird from attacking. First he said after dark do not whistle; secondly that if you see a witch-bird in a tree one should grab a rope piece and go underneath the tree or wherever the witch is perched and tie seven knots while saying a prayer and the bird would fall dead. __L_a Chusa_, according to the Ghost Story sites is supposed to be an Owl but he called it a large black bird._

_I figured since Magica is a witch and a bird that Gimbel could get this crazy notion that the Witch's knot could do away with her. Because with his brother being a folklorist he would know this story very well and try and use it against Magica. It turned out to be more of a passing joke than anything real in the story. But it needed to be explained. For some reason it always stuck out in my mind to find out about _La Chusa _anyhow. (There you have it! Sorry for rambling!)_


	12. ten

_disney owns darkwing and ducktales. I own my own brigley, mim-z and gimbel. _

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**Saint Canard**

* * *

Gosalyn Mallard felt her father's hot tears dripping on her shoulder, even though the material of her Quiverwing Quack costume. "D-d-dad?"

The moment she got home, or rather to Darkwing Tower, she was greeted by her father. She didn't know what to say, or what to do as she was taken into his arms. She expected him to get angry with her, expected 'you're grounded from everything for a whole year' or 'you won't be leaving my sight until you're thirty-five'. She only got his upset voice in her ears and his tears on her clothing.

"Dad… I didn't mean to do it. I only wanted to—"

"What if something happened to You… What about Honker…?" Drake Mallard asked, through Darkwing's mask, as he backed away from his daughter's form. "I know you only want to help me with things, Gosalyn, but don't you understand somethings aren't for kids?"

"But dad…" She protested in vain as Darkwing began a lengthy speech about Gosalyn being underage to go into the line to danger. Gosalyn realized her father was right this time, even if she hated to admit it usually; she shouldn't have gone there especially if the criminal was going to show up right in the middle of the investigation. But she was concerned about other things at the time, "Dad! He really is dangerous, dad, he's got some kind of magic powers… but not like Morgana's powers. And that paper he's after is magic or something—it glows in the dark and has weird writing on it."

"Weird writing? Glows in the dark?" Darkwing was suddenly swept away in thought as his daughter started to talk about Honker and she's experience with the criminal. He headed for a large bookshelf in the corner of the Tower, removing several books. Pulling out a book labeled 'Ancient Artifacts of Mesoamerican Culture' Darkwing sifted through its contents, showing his costumed daughter a single page of hieroglyphic-like writing, "Was something like that what you saw, Gos?"

"Exactly! It was inside the paper, glowing when he shown it to the moonlight. What is that dad?" Gosalyn asked, nearing her father as he stared at the book for a moment.

"Rainbird did research in parts of Mexico and South America on the ancient civilizations there. F.O.W.L. doesn't just go out and hire people without any criminal skills to begin with. All of F.O.W.L.'s agents were criminals first, but Rainbird doesn't even have a traffic violation or late fee at the library on record. So F.O.W.L. had to hire him for his knowledge instead… and if this paper glows with ancient Mayan symbols on it…"

"Then it must be some kind of weapon?" Gosalyn finished as she clasped her hands together, her conclusion was the same as her father's own. "He said it was a weapon. A weapon he was assembling for F.O.W.L. and he doesn't seem to care if it hurts people or not. And one more thing…"

"Anything, Gosalyn. Anything could be important to this case." Darkwing encouraged as he closed the book and put a hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"He knew my costume name, Quiverwing Quack. I didn't think F.O.W.L. would've told him that, that's all." Gosalyn stared at the tiled floor of the Tower's library. "You know what I mean… I don't think I'm a threat enough to be mentioned by F.O.W.L.—at least yet anyways."

Darkwing shook his head, a smile overcome his bill, "Anyone related to the terror that flaps in the night should be considered enough to be a threat."

Gosalyn only smiled.

* * *

_Friday Morning_

As Gosalyn opened her door that morning she expected exactly what the weather-duck said: 'A spot of rain in the afternoon'. Nothing could prepare the young girl for the torrential downpour that was outside her house. A single word passed her lips, "Bummer."

Her father, who'd been chasing her around with a yellow rain poncho finally caught up to her and threw the garment in her arms. "You will be wearing this until you get on that school bus, young lady!"

"Double bummer." She scrunched her bill together at the tacky outfit as she put it on reluctantly over her school bag and clothes. As she approached the door Gosalyn glanced at her father, "This is ridiculous…"

"You're better off that Honker, I'll bet." Drake told her.

_Probably right. _She thought as she straightened her outfit and exited the house. At the end of the driveway she spotted Honker Muddlefoot in the tackiest raincoat she'd ever set eyes on _and_ a matching umbrella. Honker gave her a pleading glance, so she decided not to say anything about it. Instead she began to talk about the Science Project that was forthcoming.

The soft pattering of rain didn't slow as they reached their destination—a small shrubbery at the corner of the street. To their surprise they weren't alone this time, usually Honker and Gosalyn were the only ducks at the stop that time of morning, but their mutual neighbor Mim-z Rainbird was there. Gosalyn's curiosity peaked as she neared the raven-girl, who wore no special clothing for the weather. Honker was the first to speak, "You're going to catch a cold if you don't get out of the rain, miss…"

Honker handed the raven his umbrella. She smiled, wrapping her thin fingers around the handle, "Thank you, I forgot mine at home."

"Your father not see you to your first time at school?" Gosalyn said, but then as soon as the words left her lips wondered if she'd said something wrong. Mim-z only nodded negatively. "Sorry…"

"He's sleeping. Long night out, I think." Mim-z said, a distracted glance down the street. "I know everything I need to about the school, so he won't need to see me there. Your friend… looks like an armadillo in that outfit."

Gosalyn laughed, as did Mim-z. (Honker obviously didn't hear the jest Mim-z made because he gave them both a questioning glance.) They both laughed again as they watched Honker's confused face.

"Is your father still looking for a job?" Honker asked, after their laughter died down to several evenly spaced snickers. Mim-z only nodded to this as well, her face turned troubled. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure that he's still looking for a job. Maybe he's found one… he's been out so late at night." Mim-z's honesty was shocking to Gosalyn, but it only proved that she herself wasn't involved with her father's criminal activity. "He wakes me up late to tell me goodbye and that he's leaving for an hour or so… You know the usual parental thing 'don't answer the door' and 'don't go outside'. Then by the morning he's back."

Gosalyn didn't know what to say to the girl now; she knew the reason for her father's late-night disappearances but couldn't tell her a single thing. She only nodded and said, "My dad used to do that; he must be working very hard or something. Don't you have anyone to watch over you at night?"

"No, but my uncle will be coming to Saint Canard soon to help my father out." Mim-z laughed, "It'll be fine then, he'll be a real fun addition to the house."

"You're father's brother?" Honker asked, with all of the innocence of a stranger engaging in boring conversation.

"From the Rainbird Brood… My father's youngest brother, actually." Mim-z told him, as she glanced from underneath her umbrella down the street. "There's the bus, right?"

"Youngest? How many brothers does your father have? Yea, that's the bus." Honker asked while simultaneously answering her question.

"Fifteen siblings, I understand. Though I've only met about three of them." Mim-z said nonchalantly, "He was kicked out of the Unkindness for marrying a magpie—my mother—and my uncle was the only one to stay by his side out of the fifteen."

Gosalyn remained silent, though a lump in her stomach told her to outwardly protest the injustice Mim-z just told of. As the bus came to a screeching halt in front of the three fowl, Gosalyn Mallard wished more than anything that she could talk to her father.

* * *

_Friday Night_

Brigley Rainbird had left his daughter a note at home, with dinner still simmering on the stove; he was going out for the night. He most regretted it but realized it couldn't be helped. He was being summoned now by F.O.W.L. and there was not much he could do. Bringing nothing with him but a small tool-holder at his waist, in which he kept his needles, Brigley went to the place he was told to meet the F.O.W.L. agent—a factory down by the docks.

"What a place to meet." Rainbird scoffed as he stepped over the fallen reminisce of a door that happen been apparently kicked in, police raid most likely. Brigley's feet brushed over the dust and grime in the middle of an open room. _Heat._Brigley noted, before he spoke aloud, "It's not a very popular restaurant you invited me to."

"We' fa'give me, I don' waste ma' time with dinna' if I know the' ain't gun'a get a kiss and a hug out'a the whole affai'." Replied the snide voice of the F.O.W.L. agent Steelbeak. Brigley could've guessed as much, but remained silent, sure that the fowl would speak further about his intentions of calling the raven out, "Ar' ya' so stupid tha' y'a think you can get away wit' leavin' us in'a dark?"

Brigley sighed, feathers ruffling at the base of his neck as he fought the feeling of anger that rose in him. Curtly the raven replied, "You've been in the dark for years, so what makes anything different now? You wish not to be in the dark, then shed light on something yourself: what are F.O.W.L.'s intentions for this weapon? Is it such a great mystery that I cannot guess?"

Steelbeak's clenched his fist, grinding his metallic beak for a moment, "Well, y'a see tha's where y'a wrong, raven. F.O.W.L. ain't entitled to tell y'a nothin'—you're workin' for us, not the otha' way aroun'."

"What exactly _do _you have in mind for this little exchange?"

"How many do ya' have, Rainbird?" Steelbeak questioned as he stepped in front of the raven. "Y'a're almost there, righ'? When y'a get those complete… just send 'em our way. That's all we ask. If o'r intentions are so clear, then y'a know what is expected of y'a then. A proper group of instructions…"

"Just instructions to use _my _weapon? Is that _all_ you ask?" Brigley asked, scoffing as he did. He felt Steelbeak's hand on his shoulder then, it was an unfriendly grip on him.

"So far, dat's it. We'll pay 'ya ample money for 'dis inf'rmation." Steelbeak let out a half-clucking-laugh to the comment, then snapped his fingers, "Oh! I also should tell 'ya 'dat y'r broth'a is in the Duckburg joint serving up some time f'r stealing from Scrooge McDuck."

"And?" Brigley only replied, not a single hint of remorse in his voice.

"Oh, chilly. Come on, boys… let's leave before we catch a cold." Steelbeak indicated that he wasn't alone, as his feet shuffled across the ground. His hand left Brigley's shoulder. "So, I take it he's given you his pieces of 'da puzzle? No more need f'r him?"

"I have plenty of need for him. He'll be out within a day; believe me." Rainbird declared boldly, "Now, if you will excuse me I will be leaving now."

"Glad y'a have confidence in y'a'self." Laughed Steelbeak as his voice seemed to grow distant, but then suddenly Rainbird heard it once more, all-the-more clear than before, "I h'ard a rumor about y'a wan'a know how it went?"

Rainbird was silent. Steelbeak chuckled-clucked again, taking the raven's silence as a cue to continue with his 'conversation', "I h'ard when you came back from those ruins in Central America… y'a found y'a girl was dead. Somehow or other… y'a went blind right after that, like within a day. Now isn't that a strange thing to hear?"

"How's that?" Rainbird laughed, "Wives are allowed to die, don't you suppose? Though it ought not to happen to anyone's."

"Nah, nah. That's ain't the bit I mean. Now, when I talked to y'a brother he seemed to convey to me 'dat y'as didn't wanna contact F.O.W.L. y'aselves. Maybe there's somethin' to this blindness rumor, eh?" Steelbeak pondered aloud, putting his hand against his forehead, "Now, F.O.W.L. High Command h'ard 'dis rumor too, and da'ys n'a too pleased 'bout it… After all, we're paying f'r y'ar house and e'rythin' all peachy-keen. Wouldn't it be a _pinch_ for us to have hired a blind literar' translata'?"

Brigley suppressed a snarl in his voice as he heard motion around him. It sounded like an ambush; no it _was _an ambush, he concluded. He reached down to his beltline and swiftly grabbed at the needles inside the bag at his waist. Before he could make another move however, he was thrown forward into the ground. His knee skidding across unwavering, solid concrete; he dropped his weapons in shock of being overcome so quickly. "One shouldn't take stock in simple rumors, Steelbeak. But I suppose being the finest agents of F.O.W.L. you shouldn't leave any stone unturned."

"Naturally, but y'ar puttin' up too much fight f'r somethin' so simple, birdy." Steelbeak told him; Steelbeak must have knelt down to him (Brigley assumed when he heard the villain's voice near to his ears, than before). "Now answer this one simple question: what color is 'da card I have out before y'a?"

"Isn't it a bit early in the year for me to be getting eye-exams?" Something hit against his side, he suspected one of Steelbeak's minions had kicked him but it didn't matter because the message was clear. "You listen to me now, you and your petty little High Commanders; I am still the best translator in this country no matter if I am blind or not! I have already solved all of the problems you numbskulls could think of! For instance, there _is_ no card in front of me…"

Steelbeak seemed to be satisfied by this, but only mildly. "Now, now… no need to get in a tiff this isn't what F.O.W.L.'s all 'bout. We're an Equal Opportunity Employer ju't like any other business in the world. We ju't don' like t' be messed with… Now if y'a got it under control, we'll be leavin' but rememb'a birdy, we got our eyes on y'a…"

Rainbird waited for them to leave. Slowly, and without another word, they did just that—leaving Brigley in the dark of the warehouse. Putting his legs underneath him as he prepared to stand the raven gave a strained grunt; he was seemingly more injured than he'd let show. His fingers groped around for the needles he'd dropped before the raven finally was ready to leave.

He knew he'd have to stave off his anger before seeing his daughter again. She was like her mother and seeing him upset would surely frighten the poor girl. Brigley decided long ago that his daughter would live without the knowledge of pain (or at least he would try to keep her as innocent as possible) until the day he died.

* * *

_Author's Notes: I never wrote Steelbeak in such a large role before. He will definitely be in later chapters. I hope my writing did him justice. F.O.W.L. doesn't seem to have confidence in anyone's abilities so I felt the need to have Brigley prove himself (because he likes doing that anyhow, right?). Brig's attitude is very depressing to me._


	13. eleven

**disney owns darkwing duck. i own my characters.**

* * *

_Chapter 11_

_Saint Canard (Saturday Morning)_

Gosalyn awoke to the sound of rustling in the kitchen, yawning and stretching she began down the stairs wondering what the commotion was. No sign of her father as she approached the kitchen's entrance she sighed as she found Launchpad inside digging through several drawers, "Good morning, Launchpad. You looking for something?"

"Well, I was going to make you breakfast before you woke up, but I guess that didn't work out so well." The pilot scratched his hair underneath his cap. "So, how are you today? Your dad said you had a rough night being Quiverwing."

She smiled, slowly sitting down in a chair at the dining table. Launchpad was always so concerned; sometimes she imagined him to be a second father or a close friend to her. "I'm fine, Launchpad. It was just that… I never realized how much I could get in trouble if I really don't watch myself. And I am ashamed of almost hurting my best friend in the process!"

"Well, don't let your dad fool you, Gos', he's gotten me into trouble too. But the important part is getting right out of the same trouble without being hurt." The pilot began to open a package of bacon, pulling the strips apart and placing them in an oiled pan. "And it seems to me, there's no one better for getting out of trouble than Gosalyn Mallard."

Another smile formed on Gosalyn's bill; everything Launchpad said she knew was true. Launchpad's heart was pure gold, and everyone that met him could tell—no matter how 'smart' or 'unintelligent' they assumed him to be—Launchpad was a genius at being his wonderful, caring self. Gosalyn preferred that beyond all other forms of 'smart', the ability to be caring to everyone was a worthy trait in her eyes.

"So where's dad off to?"

"He's gone to see Morgana Macabre about this case. He'll be back pretty soon." Launchpad didn't look up from his cooking to catch the worried look on Gosalyn's eyes. He could tell something bothered her, "Don't worry. I'm sure Darkwing will watch his manners and not get turned into a slug again."

"It's not that." Gosalyn softly told him, "I told dad all about what Mim-z told me about her father and somehow I don't feel like a good person anymore. I want to be Mim-z's friend but all I end up doing is using her."

Launchpad sighed loudly, scratching his head once more, "Do you care about what happens to Mim-z?"

"Of course!" Gosalyn interjected a fist tightening as she became serious for a moment much like she was when she was Quiverwing. "Her father isn't home to take care of her and instead he's on a mission with a dangerous organization that could cost him his freedom or life. Who would be left to take care of her if something happened to him?"

"See? You are concerned about her."

Gosalyn didn't care what anyone said—Launchpad McQuack was perhaps the smartest fowl she knew. As this thought crossed her Gosalyn thought she smelt burning bacon. "Launchpad… how's that bacon?"

"Oh shucks! I forgot to flip it!" Launchpad laughed digging in a drawer for the spatula.

* * *

Darkwing's knowledge of ravens was extremely lacking, even more so than his knowledge at how to not anger his girlfriend, Morgana Macbre. But surprisingly as soon as he explained to her his plight she began handing him books on the subject. Within several minutes Darkwing was carrying at least twelve books on Raven Culture and History. All the while during gathering these books Morgana told him, "Some of these books are extremely old and full of rumors instead of facts. You have to be careful what you consider in them, Darky-darling!" 

He nodded, moving one of the books with his bill to keep it from falling. "So you personally don't know much about them to tell me then?" She frowned and nodded her head negatively. "I was sure just because they use magic of sorts you would have the most information on them."

"How dare you!" Morgana huffed for a moment, stopping her search for books, "My family's magic is far more relevant and useful—not to mention the only true form of magic in the known world—compared to Raven-tricks. They are only illusions, Darkwing. Like a magician's parlor trick, they are only meant to be taken as magic. As a matter of fact, most the trick's can be performed by anyone with intensive training."

Darkwing gulped, a calming voice, "All-right, okay, Morg! I didn't mean to upset you about it. I guess I'll be taking these books home for a while; I'll give them back as soon as I'm finished…"

"Dark, I'm afraid that's quite impossible. The books can't be removed from my house." Morgana sighed, moving all of the books she had in-hand to a small wooden table, covered in cobwebs. "It's a spell against theft."

"What will happen?" Darkwing wondered, setting the books down on the table, a look of disappointment.

"They'll sprout wings and fly back to this house." Morgana looked more proud of her spell, than disappointed. Perhaps it was a difficult spell to master and she _should _have been proud. Darkwing nodded and sat down at the table with a heavy sigh, "Sorry, Dark-darling."

"It's okay, Morg. It's a good spell to have." Darkwing picked up the first volume and began to scan through the pages.

* * *

"Oh, Dark! Look at this!" Morgana's eyes lit up as she thumbed over a page in a book titled, _The History of Magicians and Illusionist. _Darkwing was using one arm as a prop for his head, the other to hold his place in a book called _Unkindness Groups of the Known World. _He glanced at Morgana with an interested, "hm?", and Morgana began to recite from the pages, "_Ravens have been long known to be interested in the eye-colors of their rivals because according to their own culture their role in society is determined by eye-color. Blue eyes meaning a great logical intelligence, green meaning a wonderful homemaker, brown eyes gives indications of a wonderful sense of justice and duty to the community, red means a great magical power, bla__ck eyes indicated a joyful being__ and in rare occasions multicolored eyes, or different colored eyes means a grave disaster to follow._ Dark, what color of eyes did he have?" 

"I don't really know. He hid his eyes, and he was blind so it's not like he used them to navigate. He did it by feelings, I think." Darkwing explained to her. "According to this, all ravens from certain Unkindness have to be registered to a certain territory and never step foot in another Unkindness' land. Rainbird's Unkindness, Greater Alliance of Rainbird is restricted to Alaska and parts of Canada. It says if they are in another raven's territory… it could be punishable by death unless a letter if written a year prior to the Unkindness' leader explaining their reasons for being in the rival-territory."

"So this is almost political. Rainbird probably didn't write to this territory's leaders, right? How would he if he's been kicked out of his Unkindness… no other clan would accept him in their lands; I'd imagine." Morgana sighed, "Do we have a territory here, anyhow?"

Darkwing opened up a page baring a large map with colored areas. Saint Canard was dotted in red, "It says this is the Unkindness of Lesser Valkmoor-Traviusdi. But turning him in would mean he would be killed… that would end the problem shortly, but it's not right…" Darkwing let the book he held drop shut. "This is making my head spin… I won't do anything to jeopardize his family's safety but as a last resort we can always contact the Valkmoor-Traviusdi to speak with them."

Morgana nodded. "But what is certain is that you need to learn how to dodge those illusions of his, and figure out what he's up to!"

Darkwing nodded, closing the book he held and putting it to the side as he looked around for another to read from. The masked mallard found one entitled _Raven Dust and Tricks of Lesser Magicians_, he assumed it might have been one-sided because it called the raven's techniques 'tricks' and called them 'lesser magicians', but he read anyway. "Listen to this… _raven's have long since been able to cast illusions on their opponents without a single spell being uttered this has long bewildered those who wish to see through their tricks. Ravens sometimes use a dust-like potion on their feathers, which__ has been used since the middle-ages simply called Dust or Raven's Dust. Since it was first used it's been made by raven unkindness for all occasions, more or less like a perfume to be put on daily, than an actual potion. Some ravens even produce it commercially. _It's supposed to be a sort of aromatherapy that confuses the senses. Maybe, just maybe if I can't smell it… I won't be affected."

"Even better!" Morgana snapped her fingers, setting one book to the side and rushing off to her bookshelves again. "What if we concoct an aroma of our own to counter it?"

* * *

Saint Canard (Saturday; 4:00pm) 

Morgana held up a small, pale glass bottle, showing it to Darkwing. "It's done. I call it Morgana's Miracle Dust! You should be able to just put it on your outfit and be able to see through the illusions that he creates, well, those that are created by the aromas!"

Darkwing tenderly held the bottle, wondering whether or not to ask about exactly _what_ was in it. He hoped it wouldn't turn him into something as soon as he put it on… or something else disastrous. But he decided it would do to use it in an emergency (not that he would tell Morgana that plan). But before Darkwing could even begin to think of an alternative plan, that did not involve subjecting himself to an experimental aromatherapy—a.k.a. potion, in Darkwing's eyes—something was brought to the couple's attention. Ekkes and Squeaks fluttered into the room, with Archie the Spider mumbling in tow, chattering to Morgana and resting in her thick black hair. Morgana covered her mouth with one hand, and glanced to Darkwing who was giving her his patented 'well, what is it?' look. She started slowly, "Well, Darkwing, it looks like you might have a chance to try out that aromatherapy quicker than you think. Ekkes and Squeaks tell me that a news broadcast has just said the Saint Canard National Bank Number Four has been held-up."

Darkwing narrowed his eyes, "By a raven?"

"By a raven." Morgana repeated, both nervous and anxious it would seem. Without another word she grabbed the bottle from Darkwing's hand and uncapped it. "Spread it around your body, and your clothes. Especially near your head. It'll be most useful if you can smell it, Dark."

Darkwing nervous obeyed, more hurried now than worried about whether or not the 'potion' would work. Grabbing his fedora as he started for the door he quickly said, "Thanks a bunch, Morg! You are the greatest! Now, without further ado—!"

"Wait, Darkwing!" Morgana cried as her masked comrade prepared to rush out her front door. Darkwing flailed his arms, almost falling on his face before he regained his balance and looked at the taller female duck. Morgana pulled out a dark looking bottle, that looked more like perfume. "This'll mask the smell enough that it won't be so strong."

Darkwing wasn't sure he understood because _he_ couldn't smell anything except the sharp essence of lemon. Once Morgana applied the other bottle of liquid Darkwing could smell nothing but a strong, strangely familiar, scent. Somehow it reminded him of Morgana herself.

Morgana smiled, "Go get him, Dark!"

Darkwing smiled broadly, tipping his fedora as he announced triumphantly, "It's time to get dangerous!"

* * *

The bank closed at seven in the afternoon. It was in time for all of the working-class citizens in Saint Canard to cash their checks, and it was early enough that the bank's own employees would be able to get home before the sun completely vanished (until winter time changed). The bank had been robbed before, many times actually, but the list of robbers mostly included Super-villains so the bank had all but given up on trying to stop the super-charged robbers and stuck a single police guard in the lobby to take care of the un-super-villains. Now they wished they'd hired more; their single guard was pinned against a wall with what looked to be large sewing needles and silenced by a gag. The robber himself had not shouted any demands to the customers and employees of the bank—there would be no need—he'd subdued them all. All of the Canardians in the bank were being held down by some invisible force that none of them could see or feel. Perhaps it was normal fear that kept them from picking up a phone or using brute force to ensure their own safety from the robber. But the moment the robber passed the guard, they could no longer move themselves. After a minute of confusion and cries of, "Why can't I move?" "What's going on here?" the raven spoke, "My dear citizens of Saint Canard there is no reason to worry about why you cannot move. I have done it to you, so that neither of us will get hurt. All I ask is that you let me search for what I need to, and then I will leave peacefully." 

No one had anything nice to say to the raven at that point; but to the raven it did not matter. With a snug grin fixed on his face the raven pulled out a small device from his pockets. A peculiar buzzing noise erupted through the room and then the raven said, "Open the vault."

He did not bother to turn at the blonde employee—she obeyed not of her own will—and opened the door for him. The raven put his hands behind his back and sulked into the vault, with a soft grumble of: "Thank you." to the tearful blonde. Once inside Brigley used the device to scan the entirety of the vault until he came to a stop over a single stack of money in the lot. The bundle was small, mostly of used one-dollar currency. Snapping off the paper clip that held the money together the raven raffled through the contents until he found a single bill and said, "There you are, my dear."

Turning on his heels as he put the device into his pocket once more, the raven started out of the vault. No longer was he grinning but instead held no expression on his face. Soon after he gave the order for the blonde to shut the vault once more; she did so all the time a questioning look at the one-dollar bill in his clawed hands. _Was that all he wanted? A single bill from a vault that held thousands of dollars was all he wanted?_

The raven frowned as he stopped in the center of the lobby. His head tilting to the side, a single word spoken, "Interesting."

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" Cried a voice, bold and heroic in tone. "I am the dishwasher that leaves residue on your plates! I am the ink that smears on your paper! I am Darkwing Duck!" A cloud of smoke filled a corner of the room, by the gagged guard's position. Brigley let his needles fly into the cloud, grimly scrunching his bill. But the needles all sailed through the cloud of violet smoke and landed into the wall beside the guard. The guard yelped and strained against the hold on him.

"I'll be taking _that_." A voice said from behind the raven, snatching the bill from his grasp with ease. Brigley wasted no time whirling around to the sound of the voice and striking out with his needled-armed fist. Darkwing dodged with ease, knocking the needle to the ground, "A dollar, eh? Why just this one? Or do you think I could guess by now, Mr. Rainbird?"

Brigley lowly hissed and struck towards him again, this time unarmed. Once again his attack was fought off with surprising ease. Darkwing laughed, "You seem to be getting slow or something."

The raven stood still for a moment, his mind working swiftly as he heard Darkwing triumphantly proclaim, "No villain gets the best of Darkwing Duck more than once! You're done for, Rainbird. And that weapon of yours is as well! Why don't you just give up? I know this isn't your true calling anyway, is it?"

Rainbird's bill dipped down. Darkwing wondered if he was ashamed, but could not tell. Darkwing asked with a more questioning tone, "You don't hurt anyone, do you? You don't want to… I can tell you aren't doing this because you want to cause people harm. Why do this at all, then?" Darkwing's brow was worried as he approached the raven cautiously, "You aren't fit to be a villain. Your heart isn't in it like that."

"How would you know…" Brigley whispered, though Darkwing could hear every word. "How would you know what I am capable of? I do believe you are quite mistaken of my abilities. I am more capable of doing others harm than you imagine… Hocus Pocus."

"Huh?" Darkwing questioned the last two words the villain spoke, but before he could move out of the way he was swiftly overcome by Rainbird. The raven grabbed his wrist, in shock of the sudden attack Darkwing dropped the money, and he was taken backwards into the bank's vault door. Struggling against the raven, Darkwing found that the raven's strength held him fast to the cold metal door. "What are you doing!"

The raven leaned in, his nostrils flaring as he closed in the distance between Darkwing and he. "Hocus Pocus… lemongrass…"

Darkwing became very worried; was he _smelling_ of him?

"… orange peel. Lavender…" Rainbird announced, leaning in almost against Darkwing's feathers as he continued to call out ingredients, "A hint of mandragoria and a faint smell of…" He paused, pressing his bill against Darkwing's feathers, inhaling strongly. Then, pressing his body against the duck to hold him, the raven licked a finger and scraped it against Darkwing's feathers. Replacing the finger into his mouth Brigley then announced, "How clever. It's cinnamon bark."

Darkwing struggled against the raven's hold on him, remembered something; he worked to get an arm free from the pinned position underneath the raven's body. Meanwhile the raven chuckled at him, "It's a witch's brew alright. Otherwise it would have used more cinnamon and less mandragoria plant. Is that your little secret, Mr. Darkwing? This is how you can move and the others cannot… Very smart. A witch on your side, you must feel very lucky…"

Shaking his head the raven cackled, a maddening laugh, for a moment letting Darkwing's eyes see his own sightless eyes. One free arm going to Darkwing's throat. He dug in his claws to the duck's feathers—it was enough to draw blood. Darkwing's head spun as he continued to struggle, "I am tired of everyone underestimating my abilities to do others harm! Sick and tired of all of it! So I will be sure to show you from now on… exactly how much harm I can cause."

Darkwing's struggles grew as air became less and his arm slung free from the raven's hold. Immediately he grabbed at the raven's shoulder—the one Quiverwing injured the night before—and hit it with enough force to throw the raven back. Brigley let him free, reeling backwards in pain—screaming in agony and going to his knees weakly pawing at his shoulder. Darkwing doubled-over hacking and breathing heavily as he leaned against the door. By the time he looked up again he saw that Rainbird was struggling to get back to his feet. Darkwing reached for his Gas-Gun in his pocket, "Hands up, Rainbird!"

A shot was fired as Darkwing saw a flash of ebony coming towards him. He even forgot exactly _what _he fired at Rainbird but by the time the smoke cleared the raven was gone. The bill he was after was left on the ground, in Darkwing's possession—a clue to the weapon the raven hoped to revive. The banks customers and employees dazed and wandering around the lobby all thanked Darkwing for saving them. But the thing that worried Darkwing was the 'battle' was only half-finished… the raven had left when the battle could have gone better-or-worse for either of them.

Darkwing took the bill to the tower for studies, telling the bankers his plan to return it if it was indeed safe, but in the meantime—he assumed they could live without the single dollar. Sliding the bill into his pocket and hopping on the RatCatcher he drove off with a solemn look on his face.

He'd been wrong. There was a part in him that had told him Rainbird and he were much a like—they had daughters to raise on their own and they had both fallen at one time and hurt their pride. Pride seemed to be important to them… Darkwing hated to admit it but he was a creature of extreme pride and carried his head high. But Rainbird was different… though he loved his daughter with the same magnitude as Drake loved his own Gosalyn—Rainbird was unable to use his love like Drake. It could prove to be his downfall, Drake knew, holding on to his loneliness and pride and forgetting what mattered the most.

Drake Mallard couldn't help Rainbird, though he'd tried to at the bank just then, but now it was all up to Darkwing Duck to save the day from the stubborn and dangerous villain.


	14. twelve

_**darkwing belongs to disney and i own my characters.**  
_

* * *

_Chapter 12_

_Duckburg (Saturday Evening)_

The Beagle-boys were in the cell next to him; Gimbel was ignorant of Duckburg except for the Beagle-boys (he'd heard about them in the Ice Cream Parlor down the street from the cheap hotel room he'd rented). Gimbel couldn't exactly act impressed once he saw them. Fighting among themselves—he was brought back to home thinking about how his siblings and he'd fought almost every day like that. Sighing he rolled over on the wooden bench in the cell, ignoring them (or trying to) until one of them called out to him, "Hey, hey, pal."

He rolled over, narrowing his eyes, "What?"

"You're a new face in town, eh?" Asked a chubby looking Beagle-boy with a rather high-pitched voice, "What'cha in f'r?"

"Taking several sheets of paper in an attempt to create a super-weapon charged by a radioactive element…" Gimbel voice was lull and unexcited. "I'm in here on my own will, mostly."

"Ya, buddy, freewill! Dat's exactly why we're here too!" Laughed another one, Gimbel only grumbled. "So, how y'a going to bust outt'a here, if you're in here on your own."

"Not now." Gimbel laughed, sitting up on the edge of the bench. "Scrooge McDuck and I haven't had our talk yet. Plus, I want to wait until I've had something to eat first."

All of the Beagle-boys roared with laughter. Jeering and pointing at Gimbel for acting as if the Duckburg Jail was a vacation resort or something of that nature. Gimbel only shrugged and returned to resting on the bench, saying, "You'll see soon enough as it rains."

"When it rains?" Asked the high-pitched one, "What's gunna happen when it rains?"

"It's when I escape. The weather said it was a good chance this afternoon." Gimbel smiled, "And I'll go to Saint Canard and see my brother and his daughter."

"A family guy, eh? We're like that. Our Ma' is going to bust us out, any day now."

"Oh, okay." The raven smiled and nodded. "Have fun when you go but don't get into too much trouble."

Another roar of laughter erupted from the group. "Sure, sure. We never get into trouble, Mr…"

"Rainbird. Gimbel Von Rainbird."

* * *

Later that afternoon, just as Gimbel had predicted, Scrooge McDuck called on him. Instead of making the rich duck go to the jailhouse to see the raven, they instead set up a room for the two of them to speak. It was an unused interrogation room, with a single table and two chairs, one for each side. Scrooge was waiting instead when they brought Gimbel to join him, he looked none too pleased with the situation. As soon as Gimbel sat down Scrooge began to clear his throat. "Listen, Rainbird, I'm not sure ye' game it is ye' playing but if ye' return those documents I will hold no charges on ye'." 

"It's not a game. We're trying to destroy the world." Gimbel's mood darkened. "I'm telling you this because I am at a loss myself. One part of me wants to stay loyal to the one fowl that has never betrayed me… and another is in love with life so much I don't want anything destroyed."

Scrooge McDuck bit his bill, looking both confused and still angry. "Fine. I had a feelin' ye' wanted to meet with me."

"You of all people should know something about what I will be telling you. Evaroniite." Gimbel let his hands rest on the table. "After all it was your labs that found the first evidence that it existed, I found that out through recent publications, so it's no secret."

_Evaroniite_. _When Scrooge had taken control of Ducklair Tower he never expected his nephew to be involved in the events that would take place. Evaroniite was a byproduct of that adventure. It was highly unstable and transferable to almost any other object—giving that object radioactive elements. Dangerous stuff… _

Scrooge wondered if the raven suffered from somewhat of a split personality; when they'd caught him he was nothing but a silly, nonsensical raven that thought of Gizmoduck as a playmate more than an adversary. And Webby herself had said the raven was not threatening to her in the least. "Yes, what about the evaroniite?"

"You found it by strange circumstance, no one knows what circumstance that might be, but hoped to use it as a fuel. But your researchers found it unable to be contained and found that it would not burn or be destroyed by any other means. It would contaminate whatever you tried to put it inside. In short, it was a reusable resource but it could not be controlled like you wished. So you dropped the project and the research. But…"

"But?" Scrooge echoed, noting the raven left the moment open for suspense, if anything.

"But since the substance cannot be destroyed because of its radioactive properties it must have been difficult for you to dispose of properly."

McDuck shook his head, "We couldn't destroy it. It remains in the labs, in the same containers we found it in. Those to this day those containers, alien in materia', are the only things able to contain evaroniite without being contaminated by it. But wha' does that have to do with anything?"

"My brother found evaroniite in South America. It had been used as a sort of secret-keeping instructions to a weapon. The weapon is super-powered to some high level, but he will not tell me the reason he is chasing it. He is gathering all of the evaroniite to one place and using it to control this weapon." Gimbel smiled as he watched the concern grow on Scrooge McDuck's face. "It's no use trying to stop me by containing me here. I only meant to tell you this because I want to know something."

"What's migh' tha' be?" Scrooge asked with a frown fixed in his face.

"Was evaroniite brought to this planet by aliens? Aliens bent on taking over this planet?" Gimbel asked without a shred of humor gracing his face. Scrooge only nodded to his statement, "Thank you for being honest. I am sure that the weapon my brother is hatching for FOWL is a weapon intended to destroy the planet then…"

Scrooge swallowed deeply, "So, ye' don't want to be a part of this than just refuse to help. Hand us the papers and be done with it."

Gimbel shook his head. "He's my brother and the only part of my Unkindness that will speak to me. Others shun me; and I refuse to leave him. I leave stopping him in your hands… I'm sorry for that."

"Raven be strange creatures indeed. Ye' don't like what ye' brother's doing, yet you will still follow him?" Scrooge mused, "I am glad my own family does not have such loyalty."

Gimbel smiled, "Good, than you don't have a problem with stopping us?"

"I will do my darnd'est to stop you from trying to destroy the world, but how will your brother fair without you by his side?" Scrooge asked narrowing his eyes. "After all, those papers you stole are part of the instructions made of evaroniite you mentioned, I assume."

"Yes, they are. And my brother will not be alone for much longer. I will be joining him…" Gimbel said.

"Not if I can help it!" Scrooge slammed his fist to the table. "Ye' will be spending many-a night in here, Mr. Paper Thief!"

"Thank you for saying that but I think I must try my all to get out, you understand." Gimbel smiled, "It's only fair, after all I am still on my brother's side."

"What strange fowl you are…" Scrooge sighed. "Very well, then. You will be staying here for a long time…"

* * *

Scrooge made well of his promise, two more guards were posted outside of the jail cell that held Gimbel and several outside the barred window that led outside. Gimbel had gotten fed just like the others in the jailhouse, but for some reason he felt no urge to eat. He sighed and looked down at the full plate. Thinking to himself: _Could I just stay here until my brother loses, or until he is foiled? No… That's not an option. Mim-z… Mim-z is who I will escape for… not my brother. _

Kids were something he was surprisingly good with, Gimbel didn't know why. Maybe it was their unlimited imagination or something like that.

Outside the rain began to plop on the sill, drowning out the laughter of the Beagle-boys in the next cell. Gimbel stood up, turning to the Beagle-boys, "Hey, you want to see a trick?"

Actually, Gimbel was grateful for being placed next to the Beagle-boys, otherwise he would have a difficult time escaping. He needed eyes to fool for his illusions to be perfect. The Beagles looked to him, one even crossing his arms in disbelief, then Gimbel began his Raven's trick. His eyes were intense as he turned from the Beagle-boys to the iron bars of the jail—putting a hand level with the bars. Then, slowly he inched his hand towards the bar, and upon contact with the bar his fingers went _through_ the bars as if they were liquid. The others in the jail all gasped, this got the attention of the guards, their eyes opening wide with shock, "What on earth are you trying to pull!" They didn't step forward to stop him, only backwards as if they saw something frightening—as it would be imagined to see a hand going through iron with ease.

Gimbel smiled with confidence, as he pushed his hand out of the cell to the point of his elbow being outside the cell. "The keys." The guards looked at each other, and one moved forward grasping for the keys on his beltline. But before he could hand them over to the raven a voice from outside the window cried out. Gimbel's concentration wavered for a moment, suddenly but for a moment everything was backwards and distorted to the eyes of the guards: to their imagination they saw they were handing the raven the keys as he stood at the back of the jail cell _both_ hands against the wall. But that scene flashed back as soon as the raven's concentration grew stronger.

"What are you doing! Stop!" Cried out the guards standing post outside, they were watching from the raining night outside. "Don't unlock the door, you'll let him free!"

But it was too late for their persuasion, Gimbel had convinced them with his trick that he was in control—and they had no choice but to unlock the door. Once outside the Beagle-boys all stood agape, the guards all confused and Gimbel only nodded and walked from the room. The outside guards scrambled inside the building, hoping to head off the raven. One, a short canine with red-tinted hair, looked to his partner and asked, "What on earth are they thinking! They just _let _him out. All he did was ask!"

"I don't know but we can stop him ourselves. Keep an eye out for him." Said the other, a gruff older looking police officer glancing around the area. "He's got to be here somewhere…"

"You're right. I am here, I just had to get my articles from the evidence room and walk away." A voice behind them said; they turned to see the raven. Both took their weapons from their holsters and pointed them to the raven, threatening to fire if he did not comply. He only shrugged his shoulders and walked towards them. They did not fire, they would not. "Please don't take this too harshly on yourselves for letting me go… Tell Mr. Robot I look forward to his arrival in Saint Canard. If he wishes to stop me that is."

But as he spoke the raven turned to see none other than Gizmoduck standing before him. To this the bird only smiled and nodded. "That's more like it... I didn't want to get out without a fight."

* * *

_Author's notes: I felt rather stuck on the last two chapters. But I feel like the two Rainbirds have finally shown their alliances. I never meant to make them so complicated. But the good news is, thanks to this story I feel like I can write a sequel to Oblivion's Return. (Doesn't make sense does it?) Anyhow, about Evaroniite. It's something I made up since I found out about P.K. into the Shadows—the GameCube game about the Italian Donald Duck superhero. The villains are aliens called Evaronians. And instead of Martians I used the Evaronians as the aliens that attacked the planet and left the weapon. Sorry if that's taking things too far. I won't use the Evaronians too much, or get into P.K. since this is a Darkwing Duck fanfiction but I didn't want to use Martians for some reason._

_And now I feel the need to blabber about Raven Magic/Tricks. Like Morgana said in the previous chapter they aren't really Magic tricks, they are like Illusions. Really mostly like Hypnotism and visual-illusions. They mostly just stand there and hypnotize people into thinking something is happening that isn't. Morgana is right—anyone can learn to trick people into thinking they see something they didn't… like a Magician's trick of making a dove appear in a hat. It's all to do with visual illusion._


	15. thirteen

_**darkwing duck is owned by disney. i own brig, gim and mim. **  
_

* * *

_Chapter 13_

_Saint Canard_

Gimbel's arm was broken, he'd been injured enough in the past to know it. It wasn't Gizmoduck's fault; at least Gimbel never blamed the hero—he was only doing his duty (it was an accident anyhow). Narrow escapes were always the raven's specialty, but he was glad to have fought Gizmoduck before going to Saint Canard. It meant that Gizmo was just the sort of hero Gimbel imagined—one that would stop evil and save the day no matter what. "I wish I could play hero sometime." He muttered as he stepped off the bus, turning up his coat collar.

_Gimbel__ smiled, "I hope you would come!" He wanted to say, but Gizmo was determined to win and stop this plot to use the weapon. Scrooge __McDuck__ must have told him everything; hopefully he didn't tell him __Gimbel__ wanted to be stopped—that might've hurt __Gizmoduck's__ pride (to think __Gimbel__ wasn't fighting with all of his strength). _

_"Do you think this is some kind of game," Asked Gizmo. __Gimbel__ shook his head 'no'. Then they fought, it was __Gizmoduck__ who struck first—__Gimbel__ could feel determination in his actions now. It was surprising, but appropriate. _

The bus stopped at the bad part of town it seemed. At least Gimbel hoped that _this dump_ wasn't all there was to Saint Canard. It looked like a run-down bar at the end of the city, "Wonder if I could get directions there…"

Sliding his hands into his pockets the raven walked the short distance to the bar and entered without hesitation. Several of the bar's occupants gave him a sideways glance, but most of them went back to their beers and pool. However, the raven noticed a group of oddly dressed customers in a shady corner of the bar still looking him over. Gimbel knew ravens were strange fowl to get in this part of the country, except for the occasional member of Valkmoor-Traviusdi, these Canardians probably never saw one before. He avoided their eyes and walked to the bartender, "Hey, Mr. Bartender, can I ask you a question?"

"You already did." The bartender gruffly said. Gimbel laughed sheepishly but the bartender never cracked a smile, "Shoot, stranger. You're new in town, right?"

Gimbel sat down on a creaky barstool, "Well, first of all I'll have a vodka and soda."

"Sure. Coo-Coo Fizzy-Water's all we got." The bartender absently told him, "Now, you need directions or something?"

"To Avian Way." He thanked the bartender as he handed him the glass of alcohol and cola. "I'm going to see my brother and his daughter."

"They your kind too?" The bartender asked, glancing behind Gimbel for a moment.

"Of course, they moved here just about a week ago." Gimbel nodded the bartender's attitude and glanced behind him. As he did the group that was sitting in the corner of the bar came into his view. One looked like a jester, another a walking electrical plug-in, a liquefied canine, a plant-like duck and finally a rather angered looking short duck in a black mask. They sat to either side of him, the nearest being the jester (to his left) and the short duck in the mask (to his right). The bartender looked nervous, but the short duck shot him a glance that could only mean, "Shut up."—Gimbel only smiled and said, "Well, looks like I hit happy-hour."

"If you consider _this _happy!" Suddenly the short and masked duck cried out, reaching out fluidly to grab Gimbel's bill and throw him forward into the wooden table they sat by. Visible seething the duck grabbed the back of the raven's head, holding him down. "Now, make this simple. Give me back what you stole and I won't skin you alive."

The bartender and the others gathered around the raven (besides the angered duck) all winced as the raven was thrown into the table. The plant-mutant duck bit his bill and covered his eyes for a moment even, but watched out of the cracks between his leafy digits. Gimbel tried to speak, but it sounded muffled from being pressed into the table, "I'fo'wat'a'talk'bout!"

The duck grabbed the raven's hair and lifted him from the table, "Say that again?"

Gimbel's left nostril began to bleed as he rose a hand onto his bill. "Ouch, pal, that's really hurt."

"It could hurt a lot more..." threatened the duck through his teeth as he crossed his arms.

"Listen… I don't know who you are, or why you are trying to rearrange my bill, but…" Gimbel stopped midsentence to try and dab at the blood with his coat sleeve. Before continuing he turned to the jester and asked, "You make that get-up yourself?"

The jester only nodded.

"… anyhow... you could do to be a lot nicer to strangers. Especially tourist!" Gimbel seemed to not catch the horrified look on the bartender's face as he nagged at the duck. "Slamming a'body's face into the table isn't a proper hello!"

Snarling the duck's eyes blazed red grabbing the raven and slamming him against the table again several times more, "I don't care about being nice! I want the paper! The paper you stole from me!"

The electrical-plug dressed character mildly spoke up as soon as the duck 'calmed' himself and let Gimbel go again. Holding up his hands as a peacemaking gesture, "U-Um, when we said-d it was a raven… that busted into the hideout… don't you think, Negaduck, that it could've been another... raven…"

Negaduck, the angry masked duck, turned to the other with a distressed look on his face, "Megadolt… exactly how many ravens do you recall seeing in Saint Canard?"

"... I don't think any…" Megavolt lowered his head.

Negaduck questioned, "Does any of you knobs remember a raven, besides the one that apparently lifted my notebook while I was out for an hour and left the hideout in the hands of four morons, being in Saint Canard?"

They all mumbled incoherently.

Gimbel's well arm shot up, as if he was a student in a classroom. Negaduck glared at him. "What is it?"

"I'm not the only one in Saint Canard. You were probably relieved of your notes by my brother." Gimbel told him, "I doubt whatever was actually written on them was of any importance, so if you want I can get it photocopied for you…"

Negaduck glared at him for a moment, "What exactly does that mean? Of course what was written on the paper was important! I don't want anyone else to have a copy of it, even if you give me a copy."

The raven cooed softly, rubbing his nose, he absently asked, "Was it a diary?"

This won the raven nothing more than several more violent slams against the bar table. By now his head was spinning and Gimbel was only semiconscious, but he could hear a distant conversation between the villains around him.

"Negsy, don't you think this would be better discussed not where Darkwing Duck could bust in on us?" One said. Negaduck only snarled and told the voice not to refer to him as 'Negsy'. Another voice suggested returning to some hideout. The voice belonging to the plant-duck and the yellow-suited Megavolt both protested that the raven might not be involved.

"He is involved by relation!" Negaduck declared, "As in his brother'd better fork over the combination of that bank safe or his relationship with his brother will be very, very distant from this point on."

Then his eyes drifted into darkness. _One too many hits on the head_, he'd imagined. _What a pathetic state I'm in… _

Somewhere between awaking and sleeping he found himself in a conversation with Gizmoduck. Of course it wasn't the _real_ Gizmoduck; rather it was the raven's vivid imagination of what the hero would say.

_"Man. I can't believe I got beaten up by some duck with a napoleon complex." __Gimbel__ kicked a stone into the nearby puddle of water. Ripples expanded until they grew so far apart that they hit the edges of puddle. "You and I had a good fight. Too bad I had that accident." _

_"Well, I'm still coming after you, and that villainous brother of yours!" Gizmo proclaimed triumphantly. "But next time we fight don't fall off of a terrace_._" _

_Gimbel__ laughed, "And you don't go so easy on me! I could tell you think of me as some kind of victim just because my brother tricked me into this… but it's not my brother at all.__ It's my fault for not being braver…__" _

_"Artichoke and cabbage!"__ A duck dressed in only a flannel pair of swimming shorts shouted. Gizmo and __Gimbel__ looked at each other, "Count the spoons my friends!" _

_Gizmo sighed, "They say that eating too much ice cream before you sleep does this to you…" _

_"I agree." __Gimbel__ said, scratching his head. _

When he awoke from his awkward dream Gimbel could only tell that the room was spinning and upside-down. His skull panged with the dull sensation of injury. A pair of eyes were within inches of his own, "O-o-o-o! You're awake, sunshine…"

It was the jester. Gimbel grumbled, "Of course I am, moonlight."

"How witty and amusing!" The jester laughed, turning to his puppet-partner, addressing it, "Mister Banana-Brain, don't you think he is absolutely amusing. _They always do before __they__ before they push up daisies, __Mazie__!" _

Gimbel made no acknowledgement that the jester was speaking to a puppet, instead he only replied, "You are correct. So, what is going to happen to me?"

"It really depends on how much you tell us, raven." It was Negaduck again. "Where your brother lives so I might be able to retrieve my notes on my own…"

"My brother would not like that idea, I am sad to say." The way he was tied up prevented him from using his arms, so instead he just dangled from a ceiling beam. "I can't give you the exact note, but you should know my brother won't be able to do anything with these—erm—bank safe combinations."

"Why not? Isn't that why he stole it in the first place?" Asked the liquefied dog in a voice that was reminiscent of an announcer on television. "What other purpose would a thieving transgressor have stealing from the one and only Fearsome Five, but to muster in on their territory? Liquidator wonders if this raven isn't just playing innocent but Negaduck will see through this act! Stay tuned for more…"

Negaduck twitched as he waited for Liquidator to finish his monologue. "So what does he plan on doing with the notebook, then?"

"It's the key to a weapon. My brother can't actually read it, because he's blind. Unless you make a practice of writing your notes in Braille." Gimbel told him, making haste to push in a question to the group, "Would you mind untying me then?"

"He was…" Negaduck started, then turned a furious eye to the other four, "He was a blind raven? And you knobs… all four of you knobs couldn't stop a _blind as a bat_ raven!"

The other four scrunched together in fear, all saying nonsensical things about how they didn't know about the raven being handicapped and how he was actually _good_ at moving around without his eyesight. Negaduck wasn't forgiving; instead he began to throw random objects at the four, "You idiots! You cowards! You knobs! Dolts! Morons!"

"Aw, it's not their fault, really, Mr. Negaduck." Gimbel cooed, his eyes turning sympathetic towards the group cringing. "My brother is really ruthless sometimes. They probably did have a hard time…"

Negaduck only stared at him for a moment, twitching in rage before he asked, "What's the paper for?"

Gimbel whimpered, biting his lip, "A super-weapon, Mr. Negaduck. One F.O.W.L. has commissioned my brother to assemble by using a group of paper with a radioactive element inside of it."

Negaduck lifted an eyebrow, _I know I'm terrifying but usually I have to torture people before they would give me information like that…__ I think I found someone just as stupid as these other knobs._

"I can't lie. It's called the Elixir of Not Lying About Anything." Gimbel muttered in a bitter tone, "I wish I could sometimes. Then maybe I wouldn't get the odd looks all the time."

"Magic, eh?" Piped in Megavolt. "That's handy."

"For someone…" Gimbel forced his eyes closed for a minute, "I could go for a piece of pie right now…"

Negaduck narrowed his eyes, "No. I think I'll let you keep dangling there until find that brother of yours and beat him unrecognizable… not to mention…" He licked his lips, "… getting that weapon from him. You're little curse will be very handy."


	16. fourteen

_disney owns darkwing duck. I own brigley, gimbel and mim-z. _

_sorry for the delay. i wanted to do this chapter right, so i waited for the inspiration to hit me, and it didn't hit me for a while._

* * *

**Chapter 14**

* * *

Darkwing refocused the microscope, peering intensely at the item underneath the light. It was no ordinary piece of paper, besides the fact that it was an old dollar, it had several characteristics of a radioactive entity.

"It's an unstable element, all right." Darkwing hissed, without looking at the microscopes knobs he began to turn them and zoom in closer. "Uranium, radium?" He clicked his lips as he speculated. "Whatever it is; it's dangerous."

"Dad?" Gosalyn tapped the mallard's shoulder. "I bet it would glow underneath the moonlight, like it did when I saw it too. It's the fuel for that weapon."

"But exactly how could you use a dollar with radioactive elements to make a weapon is the question, Gos." Darkwing sighed finally removing his eyes from the dollar. "The raven is up to something huge. And I doubt he's in it alone..."

"Well he was on the phone with someone when Gosalyn and I saw him..." Honker piped in, wagging a finger in the air. "Besides, it looked a lot like writing to me, Sir."

Darkwing only nodded and said, "I'm going out for a while, Gos. Honker and you go eat some of Launchpad's famous Birthday Cake Flavored Pasta, and... don't bother leaving me any."

Darkwing scrunched his nose.

_Somethings just don't go together in food. Launchpad's stomach is made of cast-iron.

* * *

_

Darkwing was perched on the top ledge of the Tower, his eyes gazing at the stars that peeked from behind the clouds. Heaving a heavy sigh the masked mallard sat down on the ledge of the tower, resting his hands at his temple.

"A radioactive substance has no place in that... villain's hands." Darkwing concluded, "He'll want that piece of paper I nabbed from the bank. I could set up a trap."

Darkwing's eyes began to calculate the possibilities of trying to trap the raven. But as he was silently plotting on the tower he felt someone else's approach. Looking around the masked mallard heard a propeller sound. "Strange... I hope it's not a lost plane." Darkwing muttered glancing around.

"Greetings, Darkwing!" Bellowed a heroic, albeit familiar, voice. It was Gizmoduck; Darkwing grimaced inwardly. The duck was hovering beside the tower, in the air, with his helmet-propeller. "I thought I might find you here, Masked Mallard!"

"Giz-mo? What are you doing in Saint Canard? Another television interview?" Darkwing was half sarcastic as he stood up and crossed his arms.

"I wish it were so simple." Gizmo grimly stated approaching the tower as he attempted to land on the thin ledge. For a moment the robotic duck waved his arms around for balance before he finally landed safely on Darkwing Tower. "Forgive my intrusion, but I overheard you talking about a radioactive substance."

"W-well, it's a case I'm working on..." Darkwing was hesitant to tell the 'glory hog from Duckburg' his work so far. "It's unidentifiable so far. It's unlike anything I've seen before."

"It's Evaroniite." Gizmoduck stated, "It's a top-secret substance from the Scrooge McDuck's labs. Or so they thought... but it seems there were other sources of the Evaroniite left on the planet."

Darkwing's attention was peaked now. He clinched his fist. "Evaroniite? But what could he want with something like that? How could he even know about it?"

"By _he_ I assume you mean a raven, by chance?" Gizmoduck's beak scrunched as the masked mallard confirmed his fears. "Seems we were working on the same case, Darkwing. Whether we meant to or not. The raven I've been chasing supposedly escaped to meet his brother in Saint Canard."

"Brother?" The mallard grimaced. "Let's go inside. We need to play connect to dots!"

* * *

Brigley sighed as he turned to his daughter, "What time is it, Mim?"

Mim-z shook her head as the corners of her beak drooped, "He's very late, father. Are you sure he is coming tonight? It's already ten o' clock."

Brigley clicked his tongue, "You know your uncle isn't the most punctual of our unkindness. Actually he's quite the opposite. Listen, darling, I think I will have to go and find him at the station."

Mim-z lowered her head, glad her father couldn't see her upset nature - though she was certain her silence gave her away. "All right, dad. I'll put up dinner and go to bed. Please wake me when you get back with uncle."

Brigley's feathers bristled for a moment, "I doubt it will take long, you uncle probably just got into some trouble finding our house is all. I'll lock up..."

Mim-z hated living this way. Nothing more bothered her than her father leaving for the evening, even if it was to find her uncle Gimbel in this big city. She had taken on her mother's role of worrying for his safety - and her uncle's for that matter. Before when her father'deft her at home to go 'work' she'd felt a lump in her throat telling her that he was omitting some truth. That feeling was absent today, but she didn't feel completely safe with him leaving either. But what other choice did she have?

* * *

NegaDuck glared at the upside-down raven again, tsking in annoyance, as he questioned, "You don't ever shut up, do you?"

"It's been known but I haven't had any friends to talk to lately..." Gimbel sighed, rocking his body back and forth as he swung mid-air - it was an act of boredom.

"_Friends_?" NegaDuck jeered as the rest of the Fearsome snickered, save for Bushroot who seemed to just look confused. "What exactly makes you think I'm_ anyone's _friend let alone yours?"

The malicious duck made a gagging sound as he said the word 'friend' even but the raven only smiled. Megavolt giggled lowly, "Who treats their friends like this anyway?"

Gimbel continued to swing to-and-fro, "You're right, this isn't too friendly... could someone offer me a drink of water?"

The Fearsome Five glanced at each other for a split-second before laughing again; Quackerjack rolled on the floor, Megavolt held his side, Liquidator slapped his 'knee', Bushroot sheepishly put a hand over his mouth and NegaDuck shook his head as he gave a husky snicker.

"Listen, kid, we aren't you're friends. As a matter of a fact, I wouldn't mind just getting rid of you in the worst way I could think of -"

"And believe me, he can think of some _bad_ ways..." Quackerjack interjected as he rose from the ground.

NegaDuck looked proud of his underling's statement as he continued, "But we're trying to conduct a plan to grab the attention of your brother and after that perhaps I will give you a pair of new - slightly heavy - concrete boots and let you go retrieve my watch that I dropped in the pool last week."

Gimbel blinked, staring at the duck for a minute, "Somehow you remind me of my brother..."

"... You know I got the same impression." Chimed in Bushroot from his place behind the rest of the Fearsome.

"So what's the plan?" Asked Gimbel to his captors, "He will be searching for me by now in any case..."

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking..." NegaDuck hissed as he brought a hand to his forehead, "If you're brother is as strong as these idiots say he is, despite the fact that they can't even defeat Darkwing Dunce..."

"Darkwing Dunce? I do think I like the name Gizmoduck better. It has more of a ring to it." Gimbel sighed, "We were such good friends. I hope I see him again..."

"The raven would be the only one that wishes to see Gizmoduck. Nine out of ten criminals response to the question, 'do you want to see Gizmoduck again?' is negative!" Liquidator announced as he let his body sink into the floor.

"Really? I thought he was a great hero! He could definitely defeat my brother, but I guess this Darkwing Dunce will have to do."

"Yea, right. Both of them are losers." NegaDuck groaned. "Most of all that good-for-nothing twin of mine."

'I think my brother will be looking for me by now, by the way." Gimbel chattered, "He had little to no confidence in me. He even gave me a cellular phone that you'd give to a kid... Probably one of those Disney phones with GPS tracking on it."

NegaDuck's eyes lit up. "What did you say?"

"A Disney cell phone?" He repeated meekly.

"A tracking device!" NegaDuck's eyes glinted sharply, "Megavolt! Can you perform a reverse tracking on it?"

"Most likely..." Megavolt looked bored by the request, as if the task wasn't daunting enough for him.

* * *

After their exchange of information the two heroes only stared at each other. Darkwing was the first to break their silence, "I guess we're going to have to work together on this one..." He sounded disappointed, "Especially if those two ravens both can use their illusions. We might have to talk to Morgana about concocting two of those potions of hers."

"Well, it sounded like it didn't work out too well last time, but yes extra protection could be key to this case." Gizmo said, glancing around the Tower. "Where's that dollar bill at right now."

"I doubt from what you said, that it's safe where it is, but I left it underneath the microscope." Darkwing said, "What are we going to do with that thing?"

"S.H.U.S.H. Is the only place in Saint Canard that probably has the facilities to keep that radioactive dollar-bill from making a toxic mess." Gizmo's voice arched towards the end of his sentence, indicating his worry for the safety of Saint Canard. "At this rate..."

"We can't even use it to trap him, then." Darkwing bowed his head, "Or... we can't use the actual bill. It'll be tricky but we could set up a decoy."

Gizmo smiled broadly, "Brilliant, Darkwing!"

"But the problem would be that he has a sensor to locate the radioactivity. That being said, he could tell a trap." Darkwing's brow lowered as he began to pace on the floor. "But... he would expect us to be keeping it somewhere safe. So, we have to lure him someplace that you can't use electronics!"

"Like a hospital?" Gizmoduck questioned. "I know a movie theater! Or maybe...an airport?"

"That's it, Giz! A security check point!" Darkwing snapped his fingers. "At the dock they have a government check point, that's supposed to be for incoming and departing cargo. They have so many scanners and x-ray machines that most machinery just messes up anyhow!"

"So, we make an announcement that we're exporting the Evaroniite to a safer facility and he'll show up." Gizmoduck proudly concluded as Darkwing nodded in agreement, "That's a perfect plan! I'm glad we thought of it."

"I thought of more of it... you just helped."

"Did not!" Gizmoduck growled, "I was going to say that but you beat me to it!"

"Right."

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: Thanks for reading. I'll try to keep my stories from taking so long in the future. I am becoming attached to Gimbel, he's much like my ex-boyfriend from middle school. He's a goof. I bet you anything he had a conversation like this with NegaDuck:

Gimbel: (Dangling upside-down) I can guess by the way the other guys look - they have super powers, right?

NegaDuck: (Annoyed.) What of it? (Thinking: _Is he implying that I don't have powers? That really burns me when people bring that up!_)

Gimbel: (As if he can read NegaDuck's mind.) You don't have any, do you? Or are you like that ninja, Tenzen?

NegaDuck: W-what? Who?

Gimbel: (Whispering.) You're just keeping it a secret, right? Probably the best of them all and we just don't know it. (NegaDuck nods and thinks to himself_: I think I could come to like this kid after all, he's got some interesting ideas. A hidden power. I could use that excuse next time someone asks... should scare some people. I bet those other idiots would fall for it_.)

by the way Tenzen is an immortal ninja from the comics/book Basilisk/Kouga Ninja Scrolls. And he has a terrible attitude, much like NegaDuck and has no evil boundaries which is probably why Gimbel would think that. That and Tenzen is like NegaDuck and likes to lurk around and cause trouble. Gimbel could be one of those kung-fu/martial arts buff. I could see him watching that! Right?


	17. fifthteen

_Disclaimer: Disney owns Darkwing Duck and Ducktales completely. Brigley, Gimbel and Mim-z belong to me in all of their Raven Magic._

_Musical Inspiration: Rubicon/Rubicon II-Distant (VNV Nation), On My Own (Three Days Grace) and Map of the Problematique (Muse)– Brigley's unofficial theme songs! Gimbel's songs and Mim-z's are harder to find! I would have to say Imagination by Evanescence reminds me of both Mim-z and NegaGosalyn! Gimbel... Who knows!_

_Dedicated to Valentine. March 2007 – February 2008, an angel of inspiration and peace that I was grateful to have in my life if even for the short time that it was. She will live in my heart forever and never be forgotten by either my family, Luna or myself. The best cavy in the world._

_Sorry for the delay._

* * *

**Chapter 15**

To the less technically advanced portion of the Fearsome Five, that didn't include NegaDuck for the most part, it looked like Megavolt was simply tearing apart the cellular phone. But when they heard the rodent crying out in triumph, "There we go!" they knew he was not fooling around with the machine. All the while the raven in the background watching from his upside-down position and humming to himself lightly.

"Great, Megadolt! What's it say the location is?" NegaDuck cried out, quickly pushing the rest of the team from in front of Megavolt and looking at the device over the rodent's shoulder.

"That's not right... Maybe I messed something up." Megavolt bit his lip, poking the cellular with a screwdriver and whimpering. "That's not possible. It says he's right in front of us, through that door."

Megavolt pointed to the far-end of the warehouse that the Fearsome called their hideout. NegaDuck narrowed his eyes and turned back to the captured raven to give him a darkened glare. Gimbel replied with a wide-eyed expression, as if to say he wasn't responsible. "Are you sure, Megavolt?"

"Positive." Megavolt never took his eyes from the door, "It's possible he was tracking the phone's last point of activation, because I had to turn it off at least once during the process."

"Then what are you idiots waiting for!" NegaDuck growled glancing at the remaining three. Quackerjack, Bushroot and Liquidator all looked at each other but didn't move. NegaDuck crossed his arms, "Yes?"

"Why do we have to go out there?" Quackerjack whined as the other two nodded, "It's not like we did so great last time anyhow..."

"Fine! I'll go with you, children!" NegaDuck growled, pushing his way past the three again as he started for the door. "Megavolt, keep an eye on the kid!"

"I'm twenty." Interrupted Gimbel as NegaDuck walked past him, the duck only glared at him. "You keep calling me kid..."

NegaDuck stopped abruptly as if he was hit with an idea, Calling back, "What's your brother's weakness?"

Gimbel sighed looking defeated, "His daughter and his pride, I suppose."

"I knew keeping you around would make things easier."

"Terminate program." Brigley whispered as he closed the device in his hands, putting it into his pocket. He was in front of a building, this he knew, and it smelled like fire. Those two things certain he began to search for an entrance. Dragging his nails along the edge of the tin building until it made an eerie screeching sound. A smile graced his bill, no matter how grave the situation, he was enjoying the cold night's air on his feathers.

"Hold it right there, raven!" A voice said behind him. He didn't bother to turn around. His smile only grew underneath his drooping feathers his eyes blindly opened to stare forward. He was calculating how many there were, it was easy because unlike those F.O.W.L. Idiots they didn't stand in silence. Their feet shuffled as they moved forward—all four of them.

"What have I stumbled upon, I wonder." Monotone voice as he turned to the side, inching towards his pockets. "Let me guess, you're those four that I ran into before? The notebook?"

"Exactly!" A different voice than he was used to, this one wasn't part of the group previously. "Except this time, the cat's not away... and you won't get away without consequences either."

"A new voice, and a new motivation. I suppose you mean my brother's your prisoner, right?" Brigley whispered, letting his hand fall from his pockets. "I will go with you, let me speak to your prisoner."

Bushroot glanced to Liquidator who in turn shook his head. NegaDuck saw this motion, "If you do anything... we'll kill him." He added with a snarl. "And trust me, the little chatterbox needs a little death in his cheerful life."

Brigley only laughed a husky chuckle. Bushroot, Quackerjack and Liquidator lingered behind as NegaDuck showed the raven the entrance to their hideout. NegaDuck shot the threesome an intimidating glare as he stalked close behind the other bird. "So, what's this weapon about, raven?"

"For destroying the world." Breathed the raven, "Utterly and completely without fail."

"Oh, creepy." NegaDuck sardonically said, "What's a nice guy like you doing with something like that?"

A laugh.

"I never considered myself quite the comedian, bird."

"Then perhaps you should take up the profession. It would work better than your current of hiding in warehouses." The raven's face perked up as they entered the room with his brother dangling from the ceiling beam. Gimbel's mood changed as well, but he did not say anything to his brother immediately.

"Is this a reunion, or a funeral!" NegaDuck chortled as he brought a rough hand on the raven's lower back. He heard the bird growling lowly, so he made it a point to linger in his actions. "Big brother's come to join you, birdie!"

Brigley stepped forward, "Where is it, Gimbel?"

"In a cache at the bus stop that I came from. Safe as it can be." Gimbel told him directly, the others in the room exchanging glances in confusion.

"Very well." Brigley turned on his heels and nearly stepped on the shorter NegaDuck as he backtracked towards the door that he'd entered.

NegaDuck rose his arms, snarling at the raven. "Hold it! Where do you think you're going, raven?"

"I've got no further use of him. Do as you will." Brigley replied, but even saying this his brother did not look too shocked about his brother's bluntness. The Fearsome Five only glanced at each other, even NegaDuck had a strange look on his face—as if to say, 'I don't believe what I'm hearing'.

"Y-you're joking!" Bushroot's cried, the mutant duck stepped forwards from his cowering place behind NegaDuck. "He's you brother, you can't leave him to us villains."

Another laugh from the raven, "You are a strange duck. Not only do you call yourself a villain—which begs the question whether or not you have more moral than everyone here—but you think I care about my brother's well-being."

NegaDuck laughed hardily, holding his sides. Coming towards the raven, slapping him on the back again between the shoulder blades. "A fowl after my own heart! What about you and I becoming partners? Eighty-twenty sounds fair enough to me."

"Another joke? I have no need for you either." Brigley threw his arm back, knocking NegaDuck's hand backwards. NegaDuck's eyes narrowed, withdrawing his hand but his grin never wavering. Brigley started towards the exit again, leaving the Fearsome Five and his brother behind him in a storm of confusion. NegaDuck seemed more amused than anything else. Swiftly the mallard menace stepped towards the captured raven, pulling out a weapon from behind him.

"Bluffing." NegaDuck sneered, pressing the muzzle of a handgun against Gimbel's forehead and taking off the safety. The audible 'click' the tale tell sign to the blind bird that a weapon was indeed at his brother's head. Gimbel whimpered and closed his eyes—dispirited. The remaining Fearsome Five becoming spectators to the scene, standing as statues.

Brigley turned back, his broken grin saturating his face as he stated, "Am I?"

NegaDuck growled lowly, unable to get a reaction from the raven. He turned to Gimbel, "He's bluffing."

And with that NegaDuck curled his hand on the trigger. The weapon only clicked loudly and did nothing more. Gimbel however yelped loudly, as the weapon was fired and looked ill even after he realized it was not loaded. NegaDuck watched Brigley for a reaction only to be disappointed. The raven did nothing at all—no shock graced his face nor did he make a sound of anguish at his brother being 'shot'.

"What a cold guy." Whispered Bushroot to Megavolt, the others only agreed.

"New flavored shaved ice from Bernie's House of Dessert. For only two dollars a cup or three for a cone." Liquidator agreed, in his own way.

"You are the one bluffing." Brigley smiled his cockiest of grins and turned away from the group. Stopping at the entrance, "Gimbel... We'll be waiting for you at home when you decide you've had enough of these idiots."

The end of NegaDuck's bill twitched, he looked at the weapon in his hands. The Fearsome Five approached him, of them all Quackerjack spoke up first, "Gee, Negs, I didn't think you would be the type to be so generous..."

NegaDuck grabbed the jester's bill, screeching, "It's only jammed, you moron!"

"W-wait, Brig! I'm coming too!" Gimbel began to wriggle in the bonds, "Sorry, guys it's been fun..."

Quackerjack's alter-ego Mr. Banana Brain spoke up then, "You think you're just going to leave, Steve?"

Quackerjack agreed, "Yea, last time I checked you're still dangling like a piece of meat."

Gimbel smiled, "Oh, about that."--then much to the surprise of the Fearsome Five Gimbel twisted his body in a strange way and his arm popped out of the ropes. "It's a really easy knot to figure out... especially for a Raven Illusionist."

NegaDuck's mouth hit the ground as he watched the younger raven untie himself. Anger rose in the dangerous duck and he clinched his fist together, "I've had just about enough of these morons... Fearsome Five, get those idiots!"

Bushroot, Megavolt, Liquidator and Quackerjack shrunk away from the fuming NegaDuck, and began to follow his orders—more scared of the duck than either of the ravens. Bushroot's vines spread along the ground and crept towards Brigley's legs as Megavolt circled around to the front of their victim. Quackerjack and Liquidator deviated towards Gimbel watching the raven closely as he fell the short distance from the dangling ropes to the ground.

Brigley was lifted from his feet and turned upside-down with the vines, with not so much as a yelp. Megavolt moved in closer, body beginning to glow with electric current, as he reached towards the raven's face, "It's time to go to sleep, raven."

Brigley's hand caught onto Megavolt's, "Sleep, then."

"Eh?" Megavolt let a burst of energy free but was surprised to see neither the raven or even Bushroot were affected. Megavolt was knocked backwards, only stumbling for a minute before the electric villain grinned, "Just like before. I think I understand what's going on here. How about this, then?"

Megavolt closed his eyes, his power glowing more intensely than before, almost blindingly bright. NegaDuck and the others squinted their eyes as Megavolt's electric grew stronger and then the villainous rodent attacked again. This time the raven was hit, unfortunately so was Bushroot who had no time to let go of the upside-down bird, and it sent him flying back. Bushroot and Brigley landed against a far wall—unconscious.

Megavolt clasped his hands together, satisfied with his work. "Fool me once, shame on me! Fool me twice shame on... wait don't I have that backwards?"

Quackerjack nudged Liquidator's 'side', "Wow, so he's useful for something besides changing light bulbs after all!"

Liquidator only laughed.

"Oh, that's not good at all." Came the nervous voice of the younger raven. He looked to his motionless brother to NegaDuck. NegaDuck was stunned and staring at the prancing Megavolt—who was flexing his arms and praising himself. Gimbel coughed, "You know it's a boss' job to tell his underling that he did a good job."

"... but they _never_ do _anything_ right." NegaDuck grabbed the end of his hat pulling at it.

"That can't be true. They look capable enough to me." Gimbel sighed, "Sure, he didn't see through my brother's illusion but he stopped it right."

"Aren't you concerned about you brother?" Quackerjack narrowed his eyes, approaching the raven.

"Well, I could ask the same about your plant-friend." Gimbel's body puffed up, as if he took great offense to the jester's inquiry. "Of course I care about my brother. But, it's obvious that he would want to get himself out of the mess he's in... so I'll be a good brother and just leave it to you."

"Leave it to us?" NegaDuck continued to pull at his hat, "Now _you _think you're leaving? Do we need to get the water checked in Saint Canard? You aren't going anywhere!" Another weapon was pulled from the furious duck's coat, pointing it at the raven's chest. "You and he are both going to stay here until you give up you're little weapon and my notebook."

"... come on. It's not like I had anything to do with this really..." Gimbel begged, his hands in the air like he was a victim of a bank robbery. "And someone has to take care of his kid. Come on it's not like I'm lying, right?"

NegaDuck ground his teeth, closing his eyes, "Megadolt. Get this idiot his phone."

Seconds later Gimbel was handed the phone and the short-tempered duck snarled out orders to him, "You will answer this phone at all times, or your brother will be no more. Likewise, if I give the phone to your brother, be assured anything he says to you—he'll have a gun at his head so you'd best be getting together all of your little weapon information. Because your brother and I are going to have a little chat."


End file.
